


Unfair Fates

by Dragonpie



Category: The Mandalorian (TV), the mandalorian (lady irina AU)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Fever Dreams, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationship Development, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved, Trauma, dark themes, idiots falling in love, implied suicide, our true hero feral corin, slave!Corin, tragic backstory, trauma resolution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 50,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonpie/pseuds/Dragonpie
Summary: "....Bad luck would have Corin die here. On a desert planet, far enough from home that he couldn’t recognize the stars even if the windows weren’t barred up.Bad luck would have him die here. Alone..."Corin is a slave, passed along between wealthy men with more money than morals.An unexpected turn of events leads him to escape, however with a bounty over his head and many willing to put a price on his life, can he ever really escape?
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 169
Kudos: 533





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> As always i am sorry for writing this.
> 
> I actually had the idea for this story while watching The Office. but that's not important.
> 
> Huge thanks to the lovely Knights Kasket who helped me name this hunk of junk.

Corin stood rigid, head leaned back against the stone wall. He’d been standing straight for hours now, through the entirety of a three course meal with drinks in between. Even the troopers had traded stations at least once throughout this charade, but not Corin.

This was nothing new.

The last few candle flames were flickering out; table lain with melted wax and spilled drinks – food left uneaten and likely to go to waste. The room was near silent now, having been filled for hours with rambunctious laughter and crude comments thrown left and right.

Corin was just thankful he wasn’t the only one on display.

The night was reaching it’s end – a soft blue chill sweeping over everything as the sun faded out over the horizon. As night continued to fall so too would the temperature, breaking into an unbearable cold for those with no cover from the elements, and no way to stay warm.

Corin _craved_ the chill of desert nights. The dry air was nothing like the humid gret he had grown up with, but Corin often thought – in his pessimistic moments – this may be the closest he would ever get again.

Corin didn’t recognise the young girl who stood across the room, mimicking his position with nervous energy. Her eyes were fixed on the ground and she trembled visibly whenever attention was directed her way. She was a new face in the fortress – and Corin would know this even if he didn’t recognise every face by now. Hardly a trophy – she can’t have been expensive at all. A hurried replacement for Doll, who had been found dead only days ago – pushed too far no doubt; he had taken his own life after only months of living within these walls.

Corin had made it years.

He’d known Doll as long as he had been there. Never spoken a word to him. Never knew his real name or where he’d come from. It didn’t matter now that he was gone. This frightened young thing was Doll now, until she too caved under the pressure.

The guards had taken an interest in tormenting her through dinner. Corin could hear them hiss over slurs of drunken conversation –

 _“No slouching,”_ or _“stand up straight_ ,” while jabbing a blaster between her ribs. Even whispering threats and frightening lies if only to garner a reaction.

Corin could only barely remember going through the same hazing himself. It seemed like such a long time ago, even if it did drag on for months.

The guards had never been quite satisfied by his reactions, and it served them right.

This wasn’t Corin’s first time being bought and sold. If bad luck had anything to do with it, then this wouldn’t be his last.

_“Corin.”_

A frail hand raised from the table, beckoning him forward like a loyal pet. The action still burned in his blood but Corin knew better than to let pride rear it’s ugly head. He crossed the room with practised grace, meeting Doll’s eyes for the brief second she dared to look up.

Corin beamed brightly at their guest, knowing this was his role – to impress and invoke jealousy of the foulest kind. He took his place beside his _owner._

A wordless gesture had Corin clearing the table; stacking plates of unfinished food that would likely be swallowed up by the hungry kitchen staff. He sometimes wondered if they purposefully ruined meals just to get some extra scraps on their plates.

Corin balanced a stack of dishes on his bent elbow, all the while ignoring the obvious gaze of their guest. He had met this man many times before – he was a hoarder of lovely things, it seemed, and had always desired the best from what Corin could piece together. Names had never been important and Corin didn’t care to pick them out in conversation.

The man smiled too wide. Showed too many teeth. Made light of anything Corin was permitted to say – and every so often he was just daring enough to try and cop a feel.

Corin was used to it. Used to stepping just out of arms reach without seeming rude _._ Used to being appraised by guests and paraded around as some prized possession. And he was used to the dreaded question;

“How much will you sell him for?”

The question directed towards his owner, however Corin always opted to answer himself. With another beaming smile and an air of finality; “I’m afraid I’m not for sale. And I am perfectly happy right here.”

Even spoken with no conviction, the words brought a smile to his owners face. Every time without fail. The truth of the matter, was that a new owner was too much trouble to bother with. Corin would rather stay where he knew his place.

“Very well,” their guest let out a heavy sigh, but his expression told Corin this was far from over.

Corin pretended he didn’t even notice. He stood patiently at his owners side, waiting as he drained the final drops of wine. He held out his hand to take the empty glass, only to have his wrist closed in a tight grip.

His owner gave him a meaningful look, eyes tired beyond his years, he rasped, “come and see me in the morning. First thing.”

* * *

Bad luck would have Corin die here. On a desert planet, far enough from home that he couldn’t recognise the stars even if the windows weren’t barred up.

Bad luck would have him die here. Alone.

Corin craved the cold of stone floors and open windows on still nights. Locking him away like this was supposed to be a punishment of sorts. He was supposed to be grateful for any source of warmth offered after bracing the unbearable cold. No matter how undesirable; whether it be the desert heat, or the embrace of their owner.

He was supposed to hate this.

Tucked away in the blue embrace of stiff cold, Corin hardly ever used the ‘bed’ laid out for him. He preferred to huddle up against the stone walls and bury his face against his knees. He could always dream of memories far off – happiness that would only reach him in his sleep.

* * *

The morning-cold of stone floors always made Corin home-sick for snow. It was perhaps the last joy that existed in his life, and he embraced it barefoot in the dead quiet of swelling dark.

Corin’s day started before the sun had even begun to rise. He was woken by a pounding against his door. A package was tossed into the centre of his room and a sleep addled guard warned him not to take long.

The package contained a set of robes made of thin, airy material – perfect for the heat. The fabric was heavy all bunched up, but felt light against his skin, leaving plenty of breathing room where skin was left exposed.

Corin was used to this. He was used to being dressed up and put on display. Like a doll.

He was marched through dark corridors, two guards at his back as a needless warning. Corin was smart enough not to run.

Morning had it’s own routine for his owner, who preferred to never wake alone. He had never been hungry as long as Corin had belonged, so the breakfast was more a formality – a part of the pretences that allowed them both a reprieve from the truth.

The meals were slapped together in humid kitchens where alien chefs travelled only as far as their chains would allow. Corin’s presence was welcomed with scornful glances and phrases hissed in tongues he couldn’t understand. They envied his freedom to roam the building. Corin envied their stations out of sight.

The guards made trouble picking through the kitchen for anything edible, and shoving over-worked cooks around where everything was either too sharp or too hot. Corin could only apologise with a forced smile when a heavy tray was set out before him.

‘Probably poisoned,’ he thought bitterly. ‘hopefully poisoned.’

Corin grasped the handles and made to leave, dragging his security detail with him.

By now the sun would be rising, and Corin would spend the majority of his time curled up on the floor at his owners side, a possession to be shown off during war plans and meetings with ill-meaning allies.

His stomach grey heavy as though approached, and heavier still when they reached his owner’s door.

“Don’t take too long, one guard grumbled, leaning against the opposite wall. His hand hovered above his blaster – an unnecessary warning.

The other guard held the door open, an air of dry humour surrounding him despite remaining silent.

Corin smiled politely and entered the room, feeling immediately as though something were wrong.

It was too quiet.

The room was too bright – curtains all drawn and filling the space with rising light.

The door closed behind Corin, and he took a nervous step further into the room. An ornate divider stood between him and the luxurious bed that filled the majority of the room. He took a steadying breath before taking the next step, preparing himself for the worst.

The tray slipped from Corin’s hands; dishes shattering and cutler clattering to the ground.

Corin’s stomach turned. He blinked away the sight before him – shut his eyes tight to hide from it until he was ready.

His owner was dead – lying lifeless over the covers. Though his body was slack and showed no sign of struggle, his eyes were open wide with shock. His last moments weren’t hard to picture.

Corin turned back towards the door. They must have heard the crash – another unsatisfactory meal thrown back in his face. Nothing new.

But what would they do?

No boss meant no credits. No reason to keep working. But they might kill him out of spite. They might even sell him to the next highest bidder.

Corin began to pace – every roundtrip brought him closer to the open windows. He could see out along the horizon. He could see where the world disappeared against the sky.

A lot of people wee going to be angry.

The sun was still barely rising.

Supplies had to come from somewhere –

_Somewhere out there._

He might die before he made it.

He might not.

Good luck would _have_ to take his side on this one.

Corin made his decision, body actually _shaking_ with nerves. He cast a final look towards the door – the guards wouldn’t dare interrupt until at _least_ their first morning meeting.

He had time.

Corin climbed to the edge of the window, looked down at the two story drop – the harrowing climb downwards and the desert dunes that lay ahead. All unhindered. Unknown. Wild.

He ran.


	2. Get me Off this Planet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping his masters fortress, Corin is faced with discrimination in his bid to escape the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter written already that's why i'm updating so quickly  
> i was overwhelmed by the amazing response this story got, thank you all so much i hope i continue to intrigue you all with my new work

The sun beat down hot over the crowded marketplace – desert atmosphere offering zero reprieve from the stifling heat. Corin could feel sweat sticking to the small of his back, skin itchy and irritated; rubbed raw by the material of his robes. His barefeet were blistered and sore – in fact his entire body felt as thought it had taken a harsh beating from the elements.

The fortress was far behind him -it had been hours since he’d escaped and not a single trooper had come after him. It was possible they were only just finding out he was gone – and that the old man was dead.

Corin knew he was supposed to have thrown himself down at his master’s feet and cursed the stars for having taken him too soon. He knew what was expected of him – had seen it firsthand when he was a little younger with his first owner. He knew well enough to behave when eyes were on him, but in the safety of his own mind Corin only wished this had happened sooner.

The marketplace bustled to life around him.

Several hopeful farming villages were scattered about the area. Most sales were done in trade between neighbours, but with the port not too far off, travellers were a persistent customer stocking up on necessities before going on with their journeys.

Corin had packed himself into a shaded corner, between two sturdy buildings. He was sat atop an empty cage – feeling too much like a metaphor – and surveyed the crowd as dozens of strangers ambled by.

Scores of poorly dressed men and women, and others amongst the crowd. Surely only a handful of credits between them. Clothing better designed for the heat. Less conspicuous too.

Corin thought he might lift a few credits from the pockets of strangers. He could buy a spot on some pilot’s ship and start over.

He stared up at the sky – cloudless blue that made his heart ache.

The imperial presence on this planet made things difficult for those who worked hard for peace and prosperity. Corin wasn’t going to make it harder by stealing from them.

He leaned back, fingers wrapping tight around the edges of the cage.

He could always stow-away.

If he were caught, no one was going to fly him all the way back here.

There had to be other options. He had made it this far – Corin refused to believe it had been for nothing.

A commotion caught his attention, starting at the end of the aisle. Corin turned to look, and saw it just over the heads of the crowd.

Stormtroopers, pushing their way through with blaster s raised, trigger happy among the scrambling crowd.

Corin’s heart caught in his throat. He could just barely see it, but one appeared to be clutching a tracking fob.

He fell backwards in surprise – cage toppling back to barely break his fall. Corn could hear rather than see the crowd parting frantically.

He had to hide.

A bitter part of his mind reminded Corin that he couldn’t hide from a tracker – that was kind of the point.

Then he had to run.

Maybe he could fight.

 _Maybe_ he would be shot dead in the marketplace and bad luck would have it’s final word.

“Get away from there.”

Corin scrambled into a sitting position, kneeling in the cool sand. Beside him – with a tiny hand stretched out – was a child, who’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but did not withdraw it’s hand.

“Don’t touch things you find on the ground.”

Still panicking, Corin looked up to find the source of that voice.

The first thing he noticed was the armour – and he was sure this was the first thing anyone would have seen. A Mandalorian wasn’t an every day sight even if you hadn’t spent your life locked up like a wrongly convicted criminal.

Corin barely noticed the pulse rifle until it was fired across the marketplace – eliciting a scream from those who hadn’t scrambled away into hiding. He couldn’t see from where he had fallen, but Corin guessed the Mandalorian had hit his target.

“One more,” he muttered to himself, taking careful aim.

Corin was able to edge forward in time to see a confused stormtrooper disintegrate where he stood, leaving the still beeping tracking fob in his dust. He stared in awe as the Mandalorian slung the pulse rifle over his shoulder and marched out into the crowd, leaving the child with his arm still outstretched, seated next to Corin.

The Mandalorian stooped to pick up the tracker and didn’t hesitate to crush it in his hand, allowing the broken pieces to fall back into the sand. He made his way back, never once sparing a glance towards Corin, and scooped the child up in a single hand.

“Let’s get off this planet,” he said to the child, heading back the way he’d come.

Corin stared after them, dumbfounded. He didn’t have the presence of mind to notice as the child waved goodbye.

* * *

Corin hadn’t prepared for how difficult it would be to get off this forsaken planet.

Most pilots recognised his clothes – and although none of them had mentioned turning him in, they didn’t want to risk imperial rage. And the pilots who did offer to take him aboard, all demanded payment. Too much even if Corin _did_ have the credits to spare.

He wasn’t above begging. His pleas all fell on deaf ears.

He wasn’t above fighting – Corin was escorted off of a particularly rough ship after taking a swing at the pilot.

In his defense, the price proposed was something Corin refused to part with. in all his time as a piece of property, Corin had never given himself away. And he wouldn’t now. He _couldn’t._

Escape had to mean something better was waiting out there.

Corin raised his head again to stare into the sky. Relentless blue. Stars hid behind the burning light of the sun. somewhere out there was his home planet. His family. A life that was stolen from him by bad luck, bad timing, and men with too much money.

Corin stomped away from the ship yard, kicking up sand as he went along. His barefeet stung with every step, and he flung himself to the ground in frustration.

There had to be another way off this planet. He could offer to work. Maybe he could escape to one of the farming villages.

Corin glanced up at the sun – the awful, cursed sun. there was still enough time to make it. If anyone were looking for him surely they would assume he’d made it off planet by now. And if they had trackers like those stormtroopers – then it was pointless and he might away well just turn himself in before things go any worse

Corin jumped to his feet. A wave of panic gripped him, forced him back towards the port where several ships were being loaded with supplies and crew. The supervising officer eyed him warily, but didn’t stop him from marching on towards the next unsuspecting pilot.

“Excuse me –”

“Not interested, kid.”

Corin huffed as he was cut off before being able to make his case. He opened his mouth to speak again but the pilot beat him to it, waving Corin off without even glancing in his direction.

“Ships full.”

“I don’t take up a lot of space,” Corin insisted. He followed after the pilot, who was calling out orders to crewmen, and doing a last check on the ship as it was loaded. “I’m quiet too – you won’t even notice me, I swear! And no unscheduled stops either – I’ll get off wherever toy take me. Please –”

The pilot stopped in his tracks and rounded on Corin, causing him to step back in surprise. Corin collided with a member of the crew who had been carrying a large create of fresh produce. They both tumbled to the ground, the contents of the crate spilling across the platform.

Corin very rarely flinched against a strike that wasn’t coming. He bit his lip and stared up at the now enraged pilot. One hand partially raised in self-defence – Corin saw those eyes shift through phases of disgust and pity as they landed on Corin’s wrists, where shackles had once hung heavy.

“I’ve just got to get off this planet,” he finished softly.

The pilot sighed, seeming inconvenienced more than anything else.

“Get up kid,” he said, making a vague gesture in Corin’s direction. “And take some advice; people round here may not be sharp, but ain’t no one stupid enough to try smuggling _you_ off planet.”

Corin nodded in agreement – in silent apology. He scrambled to his feet and scurried away – nearly tripping over the crew member as she scooped up bruised produce into her fallen crate. The woman’s glare went right through Corin, but she turned her attention away when the pilot called out to “ignore the kid and get back to work.”

Corin stumbled away further into the port where smaller ships were stored he found a quiet place to sit with his head in his hands, just barely protected from the sun.

He would try again with the next pilot he saw. He had to. He would keep trying and trying until someone gave him a chance.

He just had to catch his breath first.

He leaned his head back against the cool metal of the wall. Wanted to bang his head against it – wanted to melt back into the metal and disappear.

Corin thought he might try again with the man who’d offered him a ride in exchange for a – _ride._ He might be able to bargain for something that wouldn’t tear him up inside. He might be able to steal a seat on promises he wouldn’t keep.

He buried his head in his hands – buried a scream in his throat.

A light _thud_ caught his attention, and Corin lifted his head to investigate.

“Oh, it’s you,” Corin offered an insincere smile to the child as it toddled in his direction. It was holding a bruised fruit in it’s tiny hand and Corin could see a bite taken out of it. “Thanks for saving me back there,” Corin said. The only response he received was a blink of depthless eyes.

The child toddled closer. Curious. It stopped right beside Corin and held out it’s small hand, offering the half-eaten fruit with genuine smile. Corin’s heart could have melted if he weren’t so fed up.

He reached out a shaky hand towards the child, patting a top his head in an awkward gesture.

“That’s okay, you keep it,” he said, although he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had something substantial to eat.

The child continued to hold the fruit out to him and Corn smiled – genuine this time.

“Say, where’s that Mandalorian you were with earlier? You shouldn’t be eating food off the ground anyway.”

Again only a curious tip of a green head, large ears folding in concentration.

Corin sighed and leaned his head back again.

“Ad’ika, get away from there.”

Corin sat up at the sound of that voice – perking up further at the sound of a cheerful coo.

The Mandalorian stood tall over Corin glaring down with the same derisive look he’d received from a dozen pilots already. From this source it made Corin feel so small, and he shrank away from it as best he could.

The child toddled away from Corin, racing on tiny legs to where the Mandalorian stood. He raised his arms higher, and Corin could only hide a smile behind his hand, watching the Mandalorian stoop to pick the child up, acting as though it were the most annoying, inconvenient creature in the world.

This time when the child waved, Corin waved back, having the _nerve_ to speak up and say, “bye kid.”

The Mandalorian heaved a heavy sigh, having been about to turn on his head and march off about his business. He looked around the platform – not quite so busy in this area – and looked back down at Corin.

“you waiting for someone?” he asked, in a way that told Corin he knew but didn’t care.

Corin hesitated before shaking his head sharply.

“Just trying to get off this planet,” he replied, as he had a dozen times already.

The Mandalorian held up a hand to stop him from speaking.

“I don’t need to know,” he said firmly. “Ship’s leaving In five minutes”

Corn scrambled to his feet and raced after the Mandalorian as he started to walk away.

“Wait! I-I can’t pay!” he said, cursing himself for saying anything at all.

The Mandalorian shrugged and kept walking.

“You know how to fire a blaster?

“Well yeah – _but –”_

“you know how to stay quiet?”

Corin stopped walking for a moment, not sure if he was supposed to answer. He had to run to catch up again.

“Good.” The Mandalorian turned on him and Corin almost forgot to be afraid. They’d stopped in front of one of the smaller ships, a large cargo door opening at the press of a few buttons.

The Mandalorian held out his arms, offering the child to Corin who tentatively accepted.

“Get on the ship, keep the kid happy. We’ll drop you off at the next stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always feel free to reach out to me on tumblr; @softdramahoe
> 
> i love discussing fics, wips, and writing recommendations
> 
> also feel free to theorize about this fic im interested to see what people think will happen!


	3. Spacebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin finds himself a willing babysitter for the galaxy's cutest child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took me a lot of time to write, but in the end the process had good results.  
> Not only did i write this chapter, but i learned a lot about where i want this story to go, and how to get there. Of course i did already have some idea to begin with, but the more i write the more i continue to develop the ideas.
> 
> this chapter was supposed to end differently but it was getting kind of long and this felt like a natural place to end it. Anyway no life updates today (i feel like no one needs to hear that lol) but please enjoy!

Corin felt perfectly at home in the cargo area of the RazorCrest. He had travelled as cargo many times before, often locked away in small cells at the bottom of large ships – even sometimes locked in large crates more suitable for cattle. Imported like a precious commodity rather than a living, breathing person.

He had never willingly boarded a ship – much less been _invited_. Never a crew member, or a dubious guest. And so when the Mandalorian gestured for him to take the ladder into the cockpit, Corin was sceptical.

“I’ve never been on a ship this size before,” he said absently, setting the child down in it’s makeshift basket when the Mandalorian gestured for him to do so.

He received a grunt in response as the Mandalorian took his place in the pilots seat. Corin had never seen the inner workings of a ship before, so he stood by completely blank, as the Mandalorian began flipping switches.

“Don’t get a lot of passengers,” he said dully, “don’t care for the noise.”

Without turning around, he gestured back for Corin to sit down in the seat against the wall.

Corin settled into the familiarity of doing what he was told, even if his entire being rebelled against the idea of _belonging._ The Mandalorian had been kind enough to allow Corin onto his ship – the least he could do in return was to follow the rules.

He sat down and held tight to the edges of his seat, listening for the soft hum of the engine. Corin startled when the ship spluttered to life. A few button presses had the ship rising into the air and Corin clenched his eyes shut tight – teeth clamping down against his cheeks.

The last time Corin had been on a ship – it must have been years ago now – he was trading hands from one humid, tropical hellscape, to his most recent desert bound nightmare. Corin had been locked in a shiny white cell – dressed in shiny white robes – alone the majority of that journey. It had been awful the entire time, but nothing quite compared to the initial nausea of takeoff.

Not even for the motion of it, the trembling of the ship as it exited planet atmosphere and picked up speed into space. Corin had been most affected by the reality of it – that he was being given away again. Abandoned, _again_. That despite long months of service he simply wasn’t good enough –

Holding on for dear life as the RazorCrest took off, Corin felt transported back to that cargo ship, and that hollow feeling that had filled him for months afterward. Subconsciously he wrapped around himself, protecting himself form the weight of it. And when the RazorCrest fell into a steadier rhythm as they entered space, Corin still didn’t open his eyes. In the back of his mind Corin worried when he finally looked up, he would be met with empty white and uncertainty.

Instead, against the backdrop of his eyelids, Corin was met with a curious chirp.

He opened up slowly – releasing his tight grasp around his own arms and uncurling his body. With his head already facing towards the ground, the first thing that came into focus was the smiling face of the child.

“You… got out?”

Corin turned his head towards the basket, now empty. It was quite a distance from the ground – at least for someone so small.

The child titled his head curiously, a mischievous smile crinkling his eyes.

Corin let out a breath he hadn’t consciously been holding. The ship continued to rumble quietly around them. The Mandalorian continued to act as though he were the only one on board, while the child raised his arms up towards Corin.

He leaned down, scooping the child up with more care than was strictly necessary.

“I’m just going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”

* * *

Corin spent several long hours being dragged around the small ship by the child.

At first he was reluctant to leave his seat without being expressly told to do so, but the child’s emphatic bouncing and hand waving became too much to contain while sitting.

Corin set the child onto the ground and watched him hobble away – almost tripping on the edges of his brown robe in his enthusiasm. It only took a moment for the child to look back and realise he wasn’t being followed. He wobbled back to where Corin still sat, beckoning him forward with depthless eyes.

Corin looked up at the Mandalorian, who didn’t seem to be paying attention. He looked back at the child – offered a gentle, placating smile – and decided to just ask –

“Is he –”

The sharp turn of the Mandalorian’s head startled Corin back into silence.

Definitely still paying attention then.

The child chirped and waddled past Corin to the ladder heading downstairs.

“Nevermind,” Corin mumbled. He stood up and rushed after the child, worrying that he might fall or otherwise hurt himself.

By the time Corin had descended into the bottom floor, the child was already down there.

There didn’t seem to be much for him to get into – it seemed the Mandalorian had taken _some_ precautions at least, to keep the child safe while busy flying.

Corin stooped down to pick the child up, only to be dodged. The child toddled just out of reach and hurried off in the other direction, leading Corin to chase after him. It wasn’t long before they were fully engaged in a game of chase – Corin enjoying himself more and more every time the child managed to avoid him, laughing and cooing cheerfully in the process. Every time Corin thought he had the upper hand, the child would wriggle into some small hiding place, or otherwise completely vanish, only to appear somewhere behind Corin with an overjoyed shriek.

It took longer than he would care to admit, for Corin to finally corner the child, and wrap him up in a tight – it not somewhat exhausted – embrace. He had chased the child through the cargo area and feigned losing track of him completely. Corin absolutely melted at the sound of startled delight he received when finally pouncing on the unsuspecting child.

“Got you!” he exclaimed, having forgotten at this point why he had even been chasing the child in the first place.

The child seemed to vibrate in his arms, as though the adrenaline of the chase was simply too much for his small body to contain.

Corin heaved a heavy sigh and fell against the nearest wall. His entire body was aching, time allowing the sun’s wrath to sink into his skin. He’d escaped in barely nothing – was still wearing the barely there robes supplied to him just that morning – and had been burned all over. Corin sat down gingerly, allowing his sore joints to stretch out, and elevating his blistered feet just enough to take the pressure off. As he simmered down from the game, Corin was truly able to take stock of the damage.

“Sorry kid,” he mumbled, “just need a bit of a break, okay?”

The child flopped heavy against his chest in agreement, and though the action caused a harsh scrape between rough material and Corin’s skin, he was glad the child felt comfortable enough with him,

They spent a long time after, playing gentler games.

The child dragged Corin through the ship, enthusiastically pointing out – and in some cases demonstrating – the best hiding places. Corin almost felt bad for the Mandalorian, having to cope with such a mischievous little thing.

The were in and out of the cockpit. The child proudly displayed his ability to climb in and out of his basket at will. He ignored several warnings from the Mandalorian, to keep his hands to himself – jabbing buttons left and right – before Corin snatched him away with a rampant apology.

The Mandalorian had given him a curious look, but had allowed Corin to take the child away to play quietly.

Of course bad luck would have it that the child was intent on being a nuisance. He used all of his demonstrated skills in evasion, to escape Corin’s watch and annoy the Mandalorian further.

Every time Corin scrambled to stop him, but the Mandalorian never seemed more than just slightly inconvenienced. Every press of a button was remedied as though on auto-pilot. Every outreach of a grabby green hand was brushed aside gently. This was a game they had obviously played before.

It took several rounds before the child became brave enough – or maybe just impatient enough – to start climbing the console. Corin watched him go, having just made it up the ladder again.

The Mandalorian’s head turned. He seemed to sigh with his entire body.

Corin raced forward yet again, arms outstretched to grab the child before he caused any damage or – stars forbid – fell.

It seemed the Mandalorian had the same idea this time. He reached out absently – not even looking – to grab for the child’s cloak. He instead grabbed a hold of Corin’s wrist; Corin having _just_ gotten the child back in his arms.

Corin let go of the child, leaving him blinking confusedly, still perched on the control console. He pulled his wrist back towards himself and stepped back.

Once. Twice.

This time it wasn’t the sun that left his skin burning.

He felt an apology at the tip of his tongue. He was terrible at watching the kid. And he’d overstepped his bounds. It must be too late to turn around and take him back. It must be.

The Mandalorian’s hand froze in place for a few moments. He tensed just slightly at Corin’s reaction, before continuing to grab the child. He turned to face Corin, holding the child out to him.

“He’s getting tired,” he said, gesturing with his free hand as the child made an exaggerated yawn. There was a slight hesitation from the Mandalorian before he said, “he doesn’t get many chances to make friends – travelling like this.”

Corin felt his own expression soften. He inched forward, allowing the child to be dropped into his arms.

“It’s not much of a life, for a child,” he said absently.

Again the Mandalorian tensed.

“Hm. I supposed you would know better?”

Corin froze. He began to shake his head. He began to stammer out an apology.

The Mandalorian’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned around in his chair, facing away.

“Relax. This is… only temporary,” he sounded remorseful. Corin knew he shouldn’t ask. “take him downstairs. You both should get some rest.”

* * *

It took Corin a while to find the bed – if it could really be called that. And to be fair he didn’t even find it on his own. He just happened to walk past the control panel close enough for the child to reach out and mess with the buttons.

The hidden compartment was certainly big enough for the child. It was laid out with scruffy blankets, and baubles he had obviously stashed away from the ship. The space would _maybe_ be big enough for Corin to squeeze into as well, as long as he didn’t try to sit up fully.

The thought had him feeling nauseous.

Instead of worrying about getting rest himself, Corin lay the child down awkwardly a top his pile of blankets. He lowered himself to the ground, rising up on his knees to still be seen by the child.

“You’ve had a long day kid,” he said around a yawn. “We both have.”

Corin held on to the edge of the compartment, watching as the child settled in to sleep. He seemed restful for a bare moment before his eyes opened up and he was reaching a hand out towards Corin.

“I’m right here kid,” he said, reaching his hand out. The thought of climbing into that tiny compartment – the thought of being _trapped_ – was suffocating. “Just go to sleep. We can play more later.”

It took a little while – and some soft coaxing – but eventually the child fell asleep clutching Corin’s hand. He waited until minutes later – when soft breaths faded into quiet coos – before removing his hand. Corin tucked the ragged blankets tight and the child’s body. Let him rest snug and warm.

Finally Corin turned to face the darkened cargo area. He rested his back heavy against the ship wall. It wasn’t quite as cold as desert nights, but the air was still cool against his inflamed skin.

Corin was falling asleep. But he couldn’t sleep laying down. It would feel too different. Instead he tucked his head against his shoulder, closed his eyes softly, listened for the sound of memories tucked far away --

Corin felt as though he had only just closed his eyes. The ache in his neck told him he had been sitting in this position for hours.

He could still hear his past in the back of his mind – could still hear the faint trill of a woman’s voice whispering softly in his ear. He held onto it. Held on to the remnants of ice on his fingertips. The piece of mind that came from being home.

The dead silence of forest nights faded into the gentle rumble of a ship engine.

Try as he might, Corin couldn’t hold on forever.

Slowly, he began to sit up straighter. Corin raised his arms above his head and arched his back against the wall. He froze in that position when a noise caught his attention.

Corin opened his eyes just as slow. He half expected to be greeted by the hazy blue of desert midnight, and a locked door. Instead he was startled to see the Mandalorian standing before him, helmet turned just slightly as though avoiding looking down at him.

Corin scrambled to sit up properly.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, not sure what he was apologising for. “How long have you been standing there? You should have woken me.”

And where was the child? Corin could hardly believe he had fallen asleep on the job. The child had probably woken up and gotten into all kinds of trouble.

Corin began to stan, only pausing when he was levelled with the still open compartment. He could see the child still sleeping soundly; a small lump beneath the covers. So then why –

He turned back to face the Mandalorian, only now noticing the medical pack he carried.

“You’re hurt,” he said, gesturing to Corin’s reddened skin that was now beginning to blister on the worst affected areas.

Corin shrugged.

“A day in the desert will do that to you,” he mumbled.

They stood there for a long moment, neither looking at the other. Corin kept his head down, stared at the ground, level with the Mandalorian’s feet, as he had learned to.

Eventually the Mandalorian huffed an annoyed sound he held out his hand, offering the pack to Corin.

He shook his head.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Look, we’ve got a long way to go before the next safe planet. There’s no point you sitting around in pain the entire time.”

Corin continued to hesitate.

He’d been enough trouble already. And to think this Mandalorian was going out of his way to transport him to a known safe planet? It was more than he could have asked for.

Still Corn reached out, begging his hand not to shake, and took the offered pack. He opened his mouth to say _thank you_ , but the Mandalorian raised a hand to stop him from saying anything else.

“I don’t need to hear it,” he said, already retreating towards the cockpit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again! I've gotten so many lovely responses for this story, it really motivates me to keep writing. I don't often reply to comments because i dont like the idea of artificially raising the comment stat BUT please know that i cherish each and every comment i get.
> 
> again i'm very curious to know what everyone thinks is going to happen. To everyone who commented last time, your guesses were very sweet but i think there'll be some surprises for all you optimists out there :)


	4. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a long time to write and it's not as long as i would have liked... i've got a lot of time off work coming up but i'm going to be doing a lot of other things so don't expect to much from me. i want to keep writing and pushing out chapters but i also want to sleep and spend time with my family while i can...

Corin felt better in the hours after his injuries were treated. He lay down heavy against the cargo bay floor, stretching his arm sout above his head if only to remind himself how much space he had. He allowed his stiff joints to relax, and straightened out the ache in his back, all while listening to the faint hum of the RazorCrest.

It still hadn’t quite hit him yet.

The death of his owner.

The escape – and horrible trek across the scorching desert.

Being scooped up at the very edges of hope, and taken away from that awful place.

It didn’t feel quite real. Like just another dream wrapped in a serene grey haze – snowfall in the distance, a fresh breath of cold in pained lungs. Some type of coping mechanism to get him through eternity.

A soft coo had Corin sitting up. When he peered into the compartment – the child just beginning to wake – it felt like opening his eyes for the very first time. A complete blank state. No past. No present. Only this.

Corin was on his feet before he even realised it, climbing frantically towards the cockpit. His stomach was fluttering, felt as though it had been carved out and his heart was hammering ice through his veins.

The Mandalorian turned his head just slightly when Corin bounded into the cockpit. A slight gesture of surprise, to show that he was listening.

“We have to go back,” Corin said. He was short of breath. His voice was shaking. He marched forward on shaky legs, turned on his heel sharply and continued to pace back. “We have to – you have to take me back. We’ve got to turn back _now._ ”

Corin dragged a hand through his hair, a thousand thoughts hurtling through his mind all at once.

He was going to be in so much trouble. They were going to hunt him down and kill him for sure.

 _No more_ second chances. No more _mercy_ – he sneered at that thought, a wave of bitterness barely overcoming the panic.

No one would want to buy him after this; not after what he’d done. He should have just _stayed_. Let the guards think what they would. He should have stayed and faced his punishment. No way it could be worse than what they’d do to him now.

Corin couldn’t breathe. His legs were giving up. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, willing himself back to reality.

A strong hand on his shoulder had Corin jumping. He pushed against the solid weight of a strong body, backing away until he hit the wall and he was _trapped._

Flashes of other things flitted through Corin’s mind. Days when he was younger and didn’t know any better. Days he had scratched and clawed from his mind. He thought back to the girl who had been left behind him at the fortress – _Doll,_ who had been every bit as scared that night as he was now. He thought back to his own first day as a slave and how it couldn’t be taken back.

Panic rolled right off and replaced by burning anger, beating beneath his skin with no way to get out.

“Hey.”

The Mandalorian’s voice reached Corin’s ears.

Corin peeled his hands slowly from his face. He opened his eyes in fractions – wondered when exactly he had sunken to the ground – and looked up to where the Mandalorian stood with his hands raised.

“Sorry – I shouldn’t have.”

Corin shook his head but said nothing. Couldn’t think of anything to say.

The Mandalorian kept his distance. Kept his hands where they could be seen. He kept his voice level. Corin though in the back of his mind, it might’ve been like this with the child too, at least on bad days.

“We can’t go back,” the Mandalorian said carefully. “That planet isn’t safe – you know that, don’t you?”

Corin nodded, breathing in a hiccup of air.

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly.

Corin never thought he would make it this far.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted curiously. He turned away – obviously disturbed by what he saw.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, as though he had any way of knowing.

It looked almost like he wanted to say something else – maybe offer words of comfort or support.

Corin was glad he didn’t.

* * *

Corin had never gotten used to the way time disappeared while in space.

Certainly it had been different, the few other times he’d travelled between planets. With no windows to tell if he were still in flight, and no one beside him to measure the passage of time with wakeful yawns or small growling stomachs. Back then Corin had only the rumble of quiet engines, and the occasional meal slid beneath his door – just enough to keep him alive while isolation did it’s best to take his sanity.

At least the RazorCrest had a large window to stare out of – even if it only revealed the depths of space. If nothing else this gave Corin a sense of placement. He could _see_ the galaxy shifting around outside the ship. This helped Corin cling to the knowledge that the world existed and didn’t simply stop where he hit walls.

After calming down Corin had spent a good amount of time in the cargo area resting his head against the wall.

He took the time to think everything over – covering screams behind two hands when it became too overwhelming – and came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do.

Sure, Corin reasoned, he could say he was stolen from the fortress by his master’s murderer, but it wouldn’t be long before he was caught out in his lies. Things would only be worse off if he lied

Corin considered every scenario of finding his way back to his master’s fortress and begging forgiveness.

The thought of being sold again made his skin crawl. Not to mention the wrath of angry guards short their pay checks – they would certainly want their money’s worth out of him – the thought had Corin nearly tearing his hair out.

The Mandalorian was right. He couldn’t go back. He had run away and now Corin had to face the consequences of it. He had to keep running – even though his throat almost closed up just thinking about it. And he had to fight. With everything he had, Corin had to _fight_.

Thinking against the wall turned to pacing. Corin’s body burned to _run –_ his stomach fluttered and ached with anxiety, sending his muscles into a panic.

Pacing soon had Corin on the ground forcing his body into sit ups until his stomach ached from exertion rather than fear. Corin pushed his body into press ups until his arms felt weak – until he forgot that he was ever afraid.

Corin lay heavy on the cargo bay floor covered I sweat, feeling as though a light breeze could shatter him. He could only smile.

* * *

Corin had gone completely undisturbed while working out his fears. It was strange to say the least, especially considering he had spent the majority of his time so far chasing after the rowdy child. Corin didn’t quite know what the make of the silence, and so he found a new wave of nauseous anxiety filling his stomach as he made his way into the cockpit.

As Corin climbed the ladder, he could hear talking from above. It was in a language he had never heard before, and the words were accompanied every so often by a joyful coo from the child.

When he finally stepped into the room Corin was met with the sight of the child nestled safely in his basket, clutching a shiny metal bauble.

The Mandalorian was still seated in the pilots chair, seemingly paying no attention to the idle child. He turned his head slightly, stopping mid-sentence when Corin entered.

Several beats of tense silence were broken by the child’s soft coo. He reached his arms out to Corin, miraculously staying still in his basket and waiting to be picked up. Corin could only oblige, a smile melting his expression.

“Hey,” he said softly, lifting the child into his arms, “Missed you downstairs. Good sleep, huh?”

The child blinked depthless eyes, pushing the metal bauble into Corin’s hands.

“I told him not to bother you,” the Mandalorian said, not sounding the least bit surprised that this had worked.

“Are you,” a brief pause, the space between words feeling hesitant. The Mandalorian cleared his throat and tried again. “Are you feeling any better?”

Corin let out a shaky breath, bouncing the child slightly in his arms.

“No” he said, “But I think that might be a good thing.”

The Mandalorian nodded distantly, as though mulling something over in his head.

“You’ll need to watch the ship,” he said finally. “Think you can manage that?”

Corin nodded, then shook his head.

“I can’t fly.”

The Mandalorian waved him off.

“you won’t need to. Just stay up here, I need to rest.”

The Mandalorian reached out to flip several innocuous switches on the control console. He turned in his seat, rising to his feet and Corin shifted subconsciously to make room for him to move past.

A sound escaped the Mandalorian’s throat like the beginning of words only to be swallowed back down as a shockwave drove through the ship. The impact had the cockpit bathed in red, and Corin struggled to maintain his balance. The Mandalorian reached out for him – for the _child_ – just as another blast sent Corin flying. He hit the far wall, back first, with the child clutched tight to his chest.

It was only by the grace of good luck that Corin didn’t collapse onto the ground.

Good luck, and the Mandalorian’s quick thinking.

Corin found himself caged against the wall between strong arms. The Mandalorian was startlingly close – close enough Corin could see himself reflected in the visor – with one hand on either side of his head. Despite their close proximity, and the absence of air between them, Corin felt safe even as he was being pulled away from the wall and pushed into his seat.

“Hold on tight,” the Mandalorian said, striding back towards the pilots seat. “This could get ugly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be the ending of the last chapter, i have spent all this time in a constant rage that these men will not do what i want them to do
> 
> also if anyone is having trouble picturing it, i also don't know what Corin's slave outfit looks like but i know it is a very specific shade of purple.
> 
> thank you all so much for your continued support i love all the responses this work is getting and have enjoyed reading your guesses so far about what will happen next.


	5. Change Your Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember the last time i uploaded. things have been crazy. i'n not going to do a life update cause it's 4am and i'm tired as heck.
> 
> this is all written in one go. i call it a writing marathon. if you're reading this within 10 hours of it being posted there are likely to be some mistakes that i didn't catch. that's just the way i work, sorry not sorry.

Corin was stuck between two equal parts of himself. There was the good, honest person who accepted that he had broken the rules, and was willing to own up to his wrongdoings, in order to protect the Mandalorian and his child

The second part of Corin was selfish and scared – the part clinging on for dear life as the RazorCrest shook against another strike. He knew all too well – in memories buried too deep to find – that some punishments really were worse than death.

Of course there was a silent third part of Corin – so small it seemed to exist almost outside of himself. This part could only hope the Mandalorian would find a way to pull them out of danger before the RazorCrest was destroyed. Before Corin was forced to make a choice he would regret either way.

The child clung to Corin’s arm wrapped tight around him, tiny claws digging into the flesh. He reached out with his free hand towards the Mandalorian, as a curse left him.

“it’s okay,” Corin cooed, bouncing the child slightly on his knee. His own heart was racing as the emergency lights continued to flash through the cockpit.

The RazorCrest dipped harshly to the left, almost throwing Corin from his seat. A burst of light went off just ahead – a shot having narrowly missed.

“Sorry,” the Mandalorian grunted out.

He reached over and flipped several switches on the far side of the control console before looking back to where Corin sat.

“Hold on tight.”

With a quick motion the ship was spinning, taking an incredibly sharp turn through empty space. The motion had the cockpit just about on it’s side; the child’s basket tipping, scores of shiny baubles and fluffy belongings spilling along the ground.

The turn also threw Corin from his seat, the child pulled along with him. They landed in a heap on the ground, Corin’s arms cradling the child safely. Most of the impact shook through his knees and shoulders, shuddering down his spine and sending pan through his entire body.

It didn’t matter. As long as the child was safe. Corin didn’t matter.

He scooped the child up, relieved to hear his delighted laugh – absolutely enjoying this new game of being thrown around.

Corin felt a heavy ache in his muscles – he’d landed on his shoulder at an odd angle – but pushed his body to sit up.

“Hang on,” the Mandalorian said, and Corin braced himself for another tumble.

Instead he was able to see as several shots were fired rapidly from the RazorCrest, each hitting it’s target perfectly. The enemy ship lit up the space around them as it exploded into flames and rubble. Several larger pieces flew past the RazorCrest and Corin’s heart sank.

He would recognise an imperial ship anywhere – even after all these years.

His body felt weak. The air left his lungs. Corin barely had the presence of mind to hold the child up.

It was all his fault. They could have been killed. He should have known this would happen. He should have known –

The child squirmed, struggling to get out of Corin’s arms.

Corin was hyperventilating. He was holding on too tight. He let go of the child and sat back, hand over his heart.

He could barely breathe.

“Hey,” the Mandalorian’s voice reached out to him, breaching the confines of Corin’s mental prison.

He looked up – could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head. He lowered his gaze, meeting the child now situated in the others lap.

The child reached a hand out to him slowly, eyes appearing to narrow in concentration. The Mandalorian took the child’s hand in his own, lowering it gently.

“it doesn’t work quite like that, Ad’ika,” he murmured.

Corin lowered his head further, looking away entirely. He felt as though he’d been struck. He felt lower than the ground.

He opened his mouth to apologise again – felt like a child himself; like he might dissolve into hysterics and plead for forgiveness he didn’t deserve.

By the grace of good luck he was stopped; the Mandalorian speaking first.

“We’re going to have to stop sooner than I thought.”

* * *

The RazorCrest travelled slower when damaged.

Corin sat in the back of the cockpit curled around himself. The area was still bathed in red, although the Mandalorian had managed to turn off a few of the emergency protocols.

“We’re lucky,” he had said, “it’s programmed to self-destruct if we get too close to capture.”

Corin had smiled – had given some vague impression of a smile at least – but genuinely couldn’t tell if the other was joking.

The child had tried to join Corin. He’d padded over on small feet, toddling his way to Corin’s side. A tiny hand on Corin’s calf had him jumping – jolting back into his body when his mind had been so very far away.

“Ad’ika, leave him,” the Mandalorian said.

The child’s ears drooped and he turned away, toddling off towards his toppled basket.

Corin closed his eyes against the guilt. He drew his knees up closer to his chest, wrapped an arm around his legs. The fingers of one hand were raw, nails bitten right down. Corin breathed heavily, trying to maintain composure while his teeth gnawed away at the other hand.

A gentle jingle roused his attention. Corin looked up to see the child rummaging through items fallen from his basket. He made a noise after finding what he was looking for and began to hobble back towards Corin. The jingle continued to follow the child as he walked, and Corin could see the Mandalorian’s shoulders slump in a physical sigh.

The child kept a safe distance this time when he stopped in front of Corin. He held out his hand, clutching a raggedy stuffed _Bluurg._

“Ad’ika,” the Mandalorian said, tone lowered in warning.

“it’s okay,” Corin murmured. He reached his hand out tentatively, fingers wrapped around the offered gift. The child blinked expectantly and Corin sat up.

“Hey, let’s get this mess cleaned up,” he said. He reached out to lightly push the child, earning a high squeal of delight.

Corin moved forward onto his knees and began to scoop baubles and ragged treasures off the ground, piling them into the now upright basket. Every now and then the child would make a sound or gesture with grabby hands until a particular toy was passed his way.

Corin looked up, certain he could feel eyes on him. The Mandalorian looked away quickly when caught.

* * *

“Brace yourself, we’re landing.”

The entry wasn’t rough at all. Corin guessed the Mandalorian had noticed his reaction to take off after all.

Landing carried it’s own anxiety, uncertainty that carried over to now. Corin had no way of knowing what was waiting for him on this planet – how he would fair after being olet go. How he would manage to survive on his own.

And it wouldn’t be long before he was being tracked and traced again. It wouldn’t take long for him to be found.

Corin’s throat tightened. His muscles tensed to run. He stayed seated on the cockpit floor, crammed into a small space playing idle games with the child.

“I was hoping we’d be a few systems away before our next stop,” the Mandalorian said “This isn’t exactly an ideal place.”

One look up told Corin exactly what this meant. They were preparing to dock in a quiet station – in fact the entire area was rather quiet. Ahead through the RazorCrest’s large window Corin could only see miles upon miles of desert sand stretching into the horizon.

His heart clenched.

“Any further and the Crest might’ve given up,” the Mandalorian said.

The ship stuttered to a stop, groaning with mechanical effort as the engines came to a stop.

The Mandalorian stood, and gestured for Corin to do the same

Corin followed uncertainly, down the ladder into the cargo area. He held the child steady in one arm, and stood back to watch while the Mandalorian prepared to disembark. He had an entire closet of weaponry, which seemed unsurprising to Corin. The familiar pulse rifle was sling over oner shoulder, and a pair of blasters removed from their places.

The Mandalorian turned to face Corin, and held out a blaster expectantly.

“You said you could shoot?”

“I-I can – but I _shouldn’t.”_

The Mandalorian sighed, but turned around to place the second blaster safely back.

“We’ll need to find work on this planet. To cover the repair.”

“We?”

The Mandalorian froze, as though only realising what he’d said.

“This isn’t where we meant to drop you off. There are other planets out there. Safer.”

Corin’s heart sank. He couldn’t. he had taken took much already.

“This is good. This will work,” he said carefully, “you’ve done enough.”

Looking down at the little bundle in his arms, Corin knew he couldn’t continue to place this family at risk. He looked the child in the eyes, offering a smile on exchange for a confused look.

“I think it’s better for everyone, if we part ways here.”

The Mandalorian turned again, shutting the weapons closet behind him. He rounded on Corin, the space too small to breath in.

“He doesn’t usually take well to strangers,” he said.

The child cooe’d softly between them.

“It might be a good idea to keep you around – for the kid’s sake.”

“Oh.”

Corin looked down, feeling as though his head were too heavy to hood up. He stared right down at the ground, rolling the words over in his head. The child liked him. They wanted him around. This could be the perfect way to escape – the perfect protective cover.

He was once again caught between two sides of himself; the ugly side, selfish and scared. Desperate to be coddled and protected. Then of course the noble side, who wanted to leave the RazorCrest and run for the safety of the only people who had ever treated him like he mattered.

He wasn’t given a chance to decide.

The Mandalorian raised a hand to stop him from speaking, reaching out to take the child.

“There’s a town not too far from here. We’ll find you there tonight. Think it over –”

Corin opened his mouth to speak but was waved off again. The Mandalorian returned to the weapons closet behind him, scanned the items carefully before finding the right one. He held it out to Corin. A sheathed blade, small enough to conceal in his scant robes, but still big enough to do some damage.

Corin shook his head and the Mandalorian sighed.

“Take it. You might change your mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again thank everyone so much for your continued support. im hoping to drive out a lot of writing to keep us all together during these hard times and also just to keep my sanity.
> 
> as always comments predicting the future of our boys, is greatly appreciated. i have so much fun reading what you guys think is going to happen.


	6. When Birds Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin has a brief go at making it on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been an eventful week. i locked myself out of my account and couldn't post, not that i was writing for most of that time, and now i'm back with a new update for everyone to hopefully enjoy.
> 
> Everyone knows the drill. i don't edit before i post, so if you're reading right away thank you so much for putting up with my terrible typing.

Corin had been on many planets through his short life, though often only in concept – never actually seeing the world changing around him, usually sequestered in crates made for large animals or cages made for worse. He had awoken once in a tropical paradise, chained by one slender wrist to an ornate chaise longue. The humidity had been stifling, air thick and unbreathable. Corin hardly remembered the journey to get there – a haze of space travel confined in dark cells or small rooms bright enough to drive a person mad. It was the same wherever he went, always with his eyes closed or covered. Stolen away in the depths of snowy nights only to wake up in temple ruins where just a brief glance towards the sky told him he was very far away from home.

Corin didn’t know if he should be grateful to have his eyes wide open for once. Leaving the RazorCrest on shaky legs. Leaving of his own freewill – he could almost feel the ghosts of shackles against his wrists, heavy chains leading towards uncertainty.

He stalled at the top of the ramp, breath catching in his throat telling him to stay still and wait for further instruction.

A tiny whisper in his mind begged his body into action. _Run while you still can._

Is this how bird felt when the cage finally opened – tiny hearts fluttering in tiny chests, reluctant to finally leave the perch.

Corin shook his head – a bird would never cease to fly. Even wingless they would struggle towards open skies.

The Mandalorian stood at the bottom of the ramp. Patient despite everything. Corin wads used to the open stares of new men. He knew how to behave under such scrutiny. He knew how to feel, and how to act like he didn’t. but the Mandalorian’s utter refusal to look at him – Corin didn’t know what to do with that, or how to act away the hollow feeling it brought his stomach.

They had scarcely spoken since landing – since Corin’s shaky hand closed around the covered blade of an offered knife. That knife now clung to the flesh of Corin’s thigh, concealed in the folds of his tattered robes like a secret sense of security.

The first touch of desert sun on Corin’s skin was scorching. Maybe this is what he’d been afraid of all along – the inescapable feeling that he had never really left – that he was stuck in some sand trap nightmare fit to end at the first touch of desert heat against his feet.

Corin almost closed his eyes to lock these fears away, as he lifted a shaky foot to take that final step onto grainy ground. He would have hidden away from it, if only he hadn’t looked up to see the Mandalorian tense and uneasy, as though holding himself back.

So much for patience – Corin touched down finally onto the scorching sand. There was no going back.

* * *

A short discussion had Corin climbing onto the back of a farmer’s cart, shaky limbs and bottled anxiety he had intended to walk what must have only been a few hours, but as ever the Mandalorian insisted on helping.

“No point injuring yourself again,” he’d said gruffly, leaving no room for argument.

It was true the sand was already burning against his skin, but Corin couldn’t shake the guilt he felt seeing the Mandalorian hand over credits in exchange for his journey.

He said nothing, simply sitting curled around himself in the back of the cart as it started moving. Corin raised his head long enough to wave at the child as he left, before burying his face against his knees.

The cart rattled and lurched, dragging along the unstable sand ground. Corin held tight to himself, surrounded by sealed crates with foul smells – produce likely spoiled in the sun, otherwise he feared what questionable contents he shared his journey with.

Looking up Corin could see the outlines of buildings along the horizon, just beyond the farmers back. Perhaps there was a life waiting for him on this planet – a simple life in a simple community, maybe tending fields or cattle, perhaps sweeping floors or fronting stores. Corin wouldn’t have minded the quiet of a life serving meals or pouring drinks, hidden away in the comfort of detached familiarity.

Corin could imagine his perfect new life – familiar faces, maybe even _friends_ – the safety of a routine, the risk of choice, a soft bed to sleep in every night and dreams to go with it. His breath caught in his throat, this lovely image set to flames in his mind – a peaceful village razed to punish him for running. For thinking he could get away.

Corin burrowed further into himself. He couldn’t stay here – _anywhere_ – too long. He would find a group to leave with, and with the very last breath in his lungs Corin would keep running.

Once or twice Corin had to fight the urge to leap off the cart and break into a sprint back towards the port. He’d seen another ship there. He thought frantically of promises he could make to get himself off this rock. Maybe keep his distance from the pilot – keep himself from getting attached. That way Corin wouldn’t feel so guilty when his next ship was shot out of the sky.

He could do this. He could wander from planet to planet. Jump from ship to ship. It might not be much but it was a life.

A life of dread and constantly looking over his shoulder – never feeling safe, never stopping to catch his breath or –

A particularly strong lurch rattled Corin out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, numb with shock, and was mortified to feel the dampness of tears beading the corners of his eyes.

The farmer turned his head slightly.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ground gets a little rough as we’re comin’ in.”

Corin nodded. He shook his head to clear away the lingering panic – focussed on taking deep breaths and holding them in his chest.

he never used to worry like this – never used to panic or struggle or fight. A heavy part of him weighed down tired in Corin’s mind, wanting to safety of his old cell, or the familiarity of shackles around his wrists. If only to know what was coming next. If only to have the decision taken out of his hands.

“So you boys thinking of staying long?”

Corin looked up again, only distantly aware that he was being spoken to.

“You an’ that Mandalorian that is. I ain’t seen one in these parts before, but it can’t be good news.”

Corin nodded gain, not sure if he was allowed to speak. He shifted in the back of the cart, ragged robes shifting along with him. The insignia was worn out but still there – a delicately stitched claim over Corin’s heart. He tensed when the farmer looked back, eyes skimming over Corin’s form and resting on his chest. He averted his gaze quickly, clearing his throat.

Questions were never a good thing. Corin didn’t have enough information to answer them, truthfully or otherwise. He knew he would be better to cut off any attention before it started to grow.

The cart lurched again and began to slow. Corin could see the bold outline of the nearby city, closer than ever but still far enough for him to know this wasn’t their intended stop.

The farmer coughed into a closed fist, turning his head in the opposite direction to avoid looking back at Corin.

“Right,” the farmer cleared his throat again, shoulders tense, “You best get out boy – I don’t want no trouble, ya hear me?” he raised his voice as he spoke, defence turning into well recognised disgust. “Look, if I’d’ve known –”

“It’s okay,” Corin’s voice came out stronger than he felt. He began to stand on shaky legs, clutching the side of the cart for support. “It’s okay – I’ll go.”

Corin lifted one leg over the side of the cart and jumped down, landing in a heap against the scorching sand. His faded purple robes fluttered into place around him, revealing for the briefest moment, the sheathed knife against his milky thigh.

A soft thud saw credits hitting the sand. The farmer sneered down at Corin – practically spitting out, you can keep your money.”

And if there was anything else he didn’t say, Cori could read it all on his face. Contempt for the person he had decided Corin was – perhaps mourning for the person he had mistaken Corin for in the beginning.

The simple farmer rode off, dragging his cart with him. They hurried off towards the outline of a nearby city growing smaller by the second. Corin straightened up. He scooped the loose credits out of the sand and held them safe in one hand. Something to give the Mandalorian when they said their final goodbyes Corin straightened his robes, smoothing down the tattered hems and folding the insignia back inside. It had done it’s job for now.

* * *

Corin took his time walking into the city. Every step was a scorching reminder of his place outside his cage. His weary mind struggled to keep the feelings separate, but it was clear to him by now; if nothing else, freedom meant pain.

The edges of the city were plain. One man stood guard at an open archway, leaning half-asleep against solid stone. He barely looked up from beneath the rim of his hat before waving Corin through.

The sun was already beginning to fade off towards the edge of the horizon – one side of the open sky spilling deep blue and purple tones. The colors reminded Corin of an old place in the back of his mind; frozen lakes as deep as any man dare to dive, and dark forests covered in thick layers of snow.

Desert nights weren’t so different from the memories that made his heart clench – though Corin thought sometimes he got it confused, and perhaps the colors of snowy skies were nothing compared to the depths of desert midnights.

He wandered through the city, loud and lively. Merchants hocking their wares, and pleasant smells wafting from quaint buildings. The smiles from strangers smoking out of second story windows, or of children running barefoot through the streets, simply made Corin’s heart ache with the continued mantra of; _you don’t belong here._

He stopped a few times while drifting along – pausing to listen for the source of quiet music emanating from a dark alley where a small crowd began to gather. Corin scrambled away quick enough when a wall of people set to lock him in – the gentle brush of arms or shoulders against his tense body infinitely worse than the chill of detached vocals radiating from within the dark.

The further Corin drifted, the more people he found; humble business owners packing up for the day, stray children wandering back home, and boisterous groups heading out for the night. Keeping his head down Corin locked on to a group making too much noise. Strangers walking alone in the dwindling dusk light went out of their way to avoid this group – Corin had seen their type before, though only on the very edges of his life; the kind of people who thought themselves invincible until struck down.

The kind of people who would look at Corin and see an easy target. The thought made his stomach boil, but the knife hidden against his skin settled any ill feelings. If worse came to worse, he had a way out.

Corin steeled himself. He only wanted to talk – to get familiar with the ins and outs of this planet. If anyone knew how to sneak away unseen, it had to be the men who were feared.

The sun was half set, and Corin had followed the rowdy group to a bar. He stood back in the shadows while the group greeted and older woman standing guard outside the establishment. She tried to shoo them away, but they piled in anyway only laughing as she yelled after them.

Corin remained standing in the dragging shadows of surrounding buildings, long after shadows faded into int rising dark. It was with a sense of detachment that he watched as people continued crowding towards this place – some in similar groups appearing to have started drinking already, while in rarer cases single people would lumber in with bowed heads and sombre moods.

From within the building Corin heard the rapturous laughter, and music loud enough to shake the walls. Every now and then the sound of glasses smashing sent him on edge – the urge to duck out of harms way almost too strong to swallow down – a voice in the back of his mind whispering how he’d had it coming.

Every time he thought he might step inside, Corin took one step out of hiding and two anxious steps back. The bouncer had seen him – had probably spotted him right away – but said nothing. They’d shared several instances of eye contact, Corin feeling very much like game at the end of a blaster, but he was always let go with a scoff. Not worth this woman’s time.

Little by little Corin edged his way towards the bar. By far he was mor concerned by the space – would never consider it if the door weren’t propped open. The people were of little worry. Corin knew how to act – how to _smile_. And he knew how to take care of himself.

He offered a friendly smile to the bouncer. She offered a nod of her head, indifferent, gesturing loosely towards the door as though she didn’t care for his business.

She had a look in her eyes familiar to Corin. Disdain – too grizzled for disgust. They knew all about Corin’s kind on this planet.

As he stepped inside Corin was met with the curious stares of patrons indulging perhaps a little too much in their drinks. He stepped further into the glow of candlelight – into the warm air of an uninviting scene – and spotted his group almost immediately. They stood in the back around a dingy table, and from where he stood Corin could see the mess of broken glass and spilled liquor surrounding them; fragments of glass shimmering in the dim light.

The other patrons seemed to keep their distance form this dark bubble – chattering and laughing in separate groups – the two tables surrounding the area empty.

Corin took a chance to smile politely, when a member of the group looked his way – tapping the shoulder of his friend to get his attention and blatantly pointing.

Corin kept his head high he was used to this game. He was used to being looked at like a prize.

The bar itself was busy, tended by a jittery droid and a young man who reminded Corin just a little too much of Doll before the replacement. His previous owner always _had_ preferred the company of young men –

Coirin couldn’t bring himself to match the welcoming smile – only seeing the performance in it. He migrated instead to an empty table, and sat down with a heavy sigh.

Now seated, Corin felt as though he were surrounded. The constant noise of drunken babble and silly laughter had his head spinning. Many patrons were clearly headed towards their limits – many others had taken notice of him by now and hadn’t the decency to be subtle about it.

Perhaps it was the clothes they were drawn to – the robes he hadn’t been able to ditch in favour of something less revealing. Even with the insignia tucked away within the folds of fabric, people could tell – if only by the glimpse of shackle-scarred wrists bared to the cool bar air for anyone close enough to see and judge.

Corin scoped the bar, weighing his options.

He could lift temporary wealth from the pockets of drunk men – maybe even lift the clothes of some eager old fool and run away brand new. Come back another night to steal secrets from the mouth s of dangerous men and execute another foolish escape.

He could feel them looking at him still – sharp eyes boring holes into his skin. Corin could hear whispers circling the bar beneath the pleasant buzz of conversation as something very unpleasant brewed.

Corin shifted in his seat just slightly, to feel safety shift against his skin. He buried his face into his hands a took a steadying breath.

Wherever he ran to next – let it be somewhere quiet.

Corin thought about making a scene and picking spare credits from open pockets amidst the confusion. He’d seen a few places to hide for the night – a few places to curl up in the bracing cold and simply _wait._ He heard the scrape of chairs behind him, and the sudden lull of conversation. Corin tensed, telling himself he was annoyed more than anything – ready for the local riff raff to make him welcome.

Corin was instead taken by the sound of yet another chair, scraping back beside him and the heavy thud of another person joining him.

“It’s you again,” Corin was almost put out by the sight of the Mandalorian, having forgotten their arrangement to meet up against at the end of the night. The child was at their feet, toddling around beneath the table. So it wouldn’t be a long visit. “Did you manage to find work?”

Not sure why he was being conversational of all things, Corin only stared as the Mandalorian retrieved an item hidden in his pocket. He placed it on the table and Corin was alarmed to see it was a bounty puck.

“Oh good,” Corin said, knowing this wasn’t good news at all. He almost reached out to touch the offending object – to activate it, just to be sure this was real. “An easy target then?”

The Mandalorian gave him a flat look through the visor. Even without the visual cues, Corin could still tell his patience was running thin. He tapped his fingers onto the puck and it lit up under his touch. Sure enough, Corin almost lost his breath when an image of his own face projected right before him.

“Hey,” he had to laugh, “that’s me, isn’t it?”

He looked up, surveyed the crowd for onlookers. There were many, all bemused to be witnessing what they were. Corin glanced over to the group of men he’d been scoping out – unsurprisingly they’d dropped their bravado and were no longer casting glances his way.

“You going to run?” the Mandalorian asked, sounding almost bored.

Corin wondered if a chase was what he wanted. He glanced towards the door, then back to his own face still projecting in front of him.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this was a bit of a tricky one, i don't know exactly what will happen next but i have a vague outline.  
> there's some stuff missing at the end here that i wanted to include; it was a big toss up between having this confrontation take place in or outside. in thes end these boys don't do what i tell them to do.
> 
> again thank everyone so much for the amazing support this story is getting so much attention i never thought it would get, and i am adoring everyt single comment. after much deliberation i have decided to aggresively respond to comments so prepare for that mess.
> 
> that's basically it for now, im thinking of revisiting my old FE13 fics but not before i get a kick on the rest of my Mandorin ideas (trust me i've got plenty on the back burner)


	7. Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys i am back welcome to todays episode of Unfair Fates! I am keeping no promises with this story at is seems these boys really do have a mind of their own and while writing i struggle against the essential plot elements and Dyn's kind character.
> 
> Hope everyone is surviving this quarantine and getting by. As ever if you are reading this the same day i am posting it, beware that it is unedited.

The atmosphere in the bar was tense, long after the bounty puck had been deactivated and stashed away. Corin expected to be dragged out by the roots of his hair – he was ready for it even – but the Mandalorian simply remained seated.

“We don’t have to leave just yet,” he said, voice low – almost careful. He had been watching Corin since the reveal, quiet and contemplative.

Corin flinched when the Mandalorian shifted in his direction, reaching beneath the table to lift the child off the ground. With one hand he placed the child in the empty chair beside Corin, and with the other he beckoned towards the barkeep.

Too small for his seat, the child clambered up onto the table; eyes widening in surprise when they landed on Corin. He hobbled across the table and Corin _almost_ reached out for him, but stopped at the last minute; recognising it as a bad idea. Instead he turned his head away, acting as though he hadn’t seen the child in the first place.

“Ad’ika,” the Mandalorian reached out and scooped the child off of the table, “leave him. Let’s get you something to eat”

The child responded with a soft coo, the sound piercing through Corin’s resolve. He turned again, tried his best to force on a smile – sick with worry that the child might think he was _angry_ or otherwise displeased. The thoughts cycled through him so quickly, it was enough to make him dizzy. Corin wanted the child to know that everything was alright – even if it wasn’t, and even if it was wrong to lie. But he knew in his heart – ibn a way that crept beneath his skin – that he shouldn’t speak with the child; shouldn’t so much as look at him.

Instead Corin looked around the bar, much quieter than it had been before. Rowdy groups of drunken friends had fallen into hushed whispers – some even opting to leave. Corin chanced a glance back towards the group he had been scoping out; the boisterous young men he had planned to leave with after gaining enough courage. Even they – the group no one else dared approach – had fallen silent at the sight of a Mandalorian. They were only local thugs – given their sudden drop in bravado it was likely they wouldn’t have been able to help Corin run away after all.

He supposed in a distant way, that he was grateful to the Mandalorian, for having saved him the time. Corin hardly need add another moment to be forgotten.

Only now they would all be forgotten – the last day or so thrown into the winds of time. Corin sank further into his seat, wanting nothing more than to disappear. If he let him focus slip, the bar began to fade around him; remaining noise fading off into static, a candlelight blurring at the edges of his vision, the figure approaching their table nothing more than a shadow.

“Sorry to keep you waiting honey,” the shadow stopped at their table; voice a soft trill, “what can I get for you?”

Corin blinked himself back into focus, losing grip on the conversation around him. The shadow focussed into the young barkeep, smiling his forced smile and standing straight as a board while listening intently to what was being said.

Every bit the performer that Doll had been, this barkeep gestured softly towards the child – wrapped safe in the Mandalorian’s strong arm – and gave a little wave, smiling genuinely when the child waved back.

Corin’s stomach turned. He wanted to run – just outside; just to get a breath of fresh air and to get away from this memory. His leg began to bounce beneath the table, muscles and joints aching with the need to stand up and _move._ He sat up straighter – mind screaming not to slouch – and tried losing focus again. Corin tried to disappear.

Distantly he was aware of the eyes on him; the Mandalorian’s attention having shifted away from the barkeep and over to where he was sitting. Doll’s eyes were on him too; wide and almost concerned. This wasn’t right – he was supposed to be stronger than this. Corin steeled his nerves and focussed on the gloved hand waving in front of his face – the Mandalorian’s voice reaching out to him.  
 _“Corin.”_

His name spoken firmly, broke Corin out of his thoughts. He looked down towards the table – towards his hands curled in his lap – and acted as though he didn’t see the ghost of his past.

“I’m sorry?” he mumbled; voice much smaller than he would have liked. Corin cleared his throat and looked up, meeting the visor, “Is something wrong?”

The Mandalorian tilted his head.

“You tell me,” he said. In his lap the child reached out towards Corin only to have his hand held back.

The barkeep had shifted over to Corin’s side of the table, and smiled bright enough to burn his skin.

“Corin? That’s a lovely name; actually sounds a little familiar –”

 _“No!”_ Corin exclaimed. This time he _did_ leave his seat, standing up like a loaded spring. He stepped back once, twice. “We’ve never met.”

The barkeep was taken aback; he raised both hands in front of himself to show he meant no harm.

“Alright honey – look, I didn’t mean to spook ya,” he said, looking towards the Mandalorian for help. The Mandalorian simply looked back and Doll got the message. “I’m going to let you boys get settled in.”

With a final smile he turned away, strutting back towards the bar and to the kitchen beyond.

Corin gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles burned white. Standing up he was able to catch his breath and gain perspective. He kept the bar in focus this time; clinging on to where he was.

“Corin,” his name said yet again, softer this time, the Mandalorian looking up at him – unreadable.

“I don’t want to sit down,” he said, “I _won’t.”_

“That’s fine but –”

“And how do you know my name? I never told you – I wouldn’t have.”

The Mandalorian sighed, one hand raised in a placating gesture.

“It’s on the puck,” he said.

Corin nodded he hung his head and let out a breath.

“Right.”

The child coo’d from his perch, waving a hand in Corin’s direction. Corin waved back lightly – couldn’t help himself; couldn’t fathom working through the emotional turmoil again.

“We won’t stay long,” the Mandalorian said, still keeping his eyes on Corin, “the kids got to eat, but I won’t make you stay longer than that,” his attention shifted to the bar, where Doll stood flirting with a group of tipsy newcomers.

Corin shook his head – saw the barkeep for who he was and not who he could have been. The thought exhausted him, and he sat down heavy in his vacated chair – stretched his arm out across the table when the child reached for him.

The Mandalorian didn’t stop him.

“What did they say about me?” Corin raised his head just slightly to look at the Mandalorian. When he didn’t receive an answer, he gestured with his free hand to indicate the puck now hidden away. ”I just – I want to know how much trouble I’m in.”

The Mandalorian shifted slightly – turned his head away from Corin’s gaze.

“I didn’t ask.”

Corin nodded in defeat.

“Most people don’t.”

* * *

The walk back to the RazorCrest was long. Corin’s body ached every step of the way; skin pink from the days sun, and muscles worn from all work and no care. He tried matching pace with the Mandalorian as they traversed the desert, but Corin kept falling behind.

It occurred to him in the very back of his mind, that he could run away while the Mandalorian had his back turned. He could take off back towards the town and hide until he came up with a plan.

Corin ignored these impulses even as it made his head pound. There was no point – if it wasn’t the Mandalorian dragging him back, it would be someone else. Escaping – returning _home_ after all these years; that was just a dream.

Corin knew that – knew it in a way that _hurt_ and kept him walking even when it seemed the Mandalorian wasn’t paying attention. They walked until the moon was high in the sky, and without the weak glow of lights from the city; Corin could see everything. Without meaning to he came to a stop just as they reached the port; the RazorCrest only a short distance away.

Corin didn’t recognise the constellations above his head, not a single familiar placement among the billions of stars. He had spent years trying to catch a glimpse of the sky through barred windows – if only to feel somewhat closer to memories he struggled to hold on t.

Of all the things Corin remembered form his past, no memory was quite so vivid as the night sky. He could remember the exact shade of blue, and the orbit of two moons that cast a glow over snowy terrain. And the constellations -   
Corin had spent hours mapping them out; had even hiked mountains and trekked hours through forests to see if the visage would change.

“What’s the hold up?”

The Mandalorian had finally noticed he wasn’t following.

Corin lowered his gaze to see him standing at the top of the ramp, the child settled at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Corin said softly, “I just – I never thought I would see the sky again.”

And it was stupid – he had been under the sky all day. Corin shrugged it off and began to walk forward; ready to board the ship and leave. Hit seemed the Mandalorian had other plans as he held out a hand for Corin to stop. With a heavy sigh he began to sit down and beckoned for Corin to join him.

Corin came forward on shaky legs – he couldn’t stop himself from looking around; checking the empty port for signs of life or a hidden attack. As he climbed the ramp Corin allowed himself to relax, focussing on a long deep breath with every step until he was at the top, standing beside the Mandalorian.

“You can sit – if you’d like,” the Mandalorian said, looking away as he spoke. His words were accompanied by a happy gurgle from the child seated in his lap.

Corin nodded. His limbs were numb as he moved to obey, sitting with his legs bent at the knee. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared up into the sky.

A few times Corin opened his mouth to speak but didn’t know what he would say. _Thank you for treating me like a person._ The words were on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them down and leaned back, allowing himself to take up more space.

They say in an amiable silence for the longest time; desert chill beginning to sink in finally as the sky continued to darken. Corin thought he might not mind if this was his eternity. Still it wasn’t long before the sky began to fade out as his eyes drifted closed. He raised a hand to cover a yawn and was about to suggest they had inside – he was ready.

Corin was stopped by the pull of small green hands; the child having climbed off the Mandalorian and hobbled over to him.

“Hey kid,” he greeted softly, lifting the child up to settle him in his lap. Corin looked carefully towards the Mandalorian, who was watching him intently but did nothing further. No, he wouldn’t do anything in front of the child.

Corin allowed himself to relax. He brought a hand up to scratch at the child’s arms, heart swelling at the contented coo he received. They stayed outside beneath the flow of stars long after the child feel asleep.

* * *

Corin got the distinct feeling that he would be welcomed in the cockpit. Though never explicitly asked, he did see the Mandalorian hesitate at the top of the ladder when he realised he wasn’t being followed. And if he had asked, Corin would have tried his best to say no. that wasn’t his place, and pretending otherwise had done no good.

He stayed downstairs in the cargo bay, wrapped around himself during take off. Corin buried his face against his knees while the RazorCrest roared into action, lifting them free of the planets atmosphere. It was easier this time. Alone. Corin simply closed his eyes until it was over – kept them closed until he could breathe properly, holding the air in his lungs for five seconds before letting it go in a long exhale.

Once his breath was steady and calm Corin began to pace the empty cargo bay, fighting thoughts of hopelessness and despair. Any number of people could have a price on his head and Corin wondered; would he be sold back into slavery – maybe dressed up and put on auction? Would he be put to trial for the murder of his master? Executed without a word in his defence? Or maybe this was a direct sale – underground; bypassing the need for formalities.

Many friends of his old master had expressed interest in Corin and by now word ought to have spread. No doubt a familiar face awaited him at the end of this journey.

Corin knew it was a waste of time to have a plan – that no amount of fighting would keep him from his cage. Still he lay on the ground and forced his aching body into sit-ups, working until his muscles burned. The action helped to dispel his anxiety in small amounts because he was doing _something_ rather than sitting still. And when his abdominals refused to bend or stretch an further Corin forced himself onto his stomach, burning away his remaining thoughts with push-ups until his arms physically couldn’t carry his weight.

He wanted a field to run in – a frozen solid lake to run across. Corin stretched his muscles out while lying on the hard ground of the ship – stood against the wall to stretch his arms, his legs, his back until everything ached and he was covered in sweat. Corin pushed himself until he physically couldn’t move – only then did he allow himself to sit down and rest.

Just a few moments rest, that was all he needed.

Corin leaned back against the wall and allowed his eyes to close – welcomed the chill of sleep as it overtook his body. He listened for the familiar trill of a woman’s voice in his ear, the ghost of fingers through his hair, the bite of ice against his fingertips – visceral memories remaining from his childhood and stolen in his waking hours. Wrapped half in a dream Corin could almost reach out and touch the snow as it fell around him. Weather his eyes were open or closed remained a mystery as Corin continued to drift off – until a figure appeared just outside his line of sight and Corin jolted awake with a shout.

His body jolted into action before his mind could react; arms rising to protect himself while his feet scrambled to push himself further against the wall. As Corin’s mind cleared he came to see it was no figment of his past standing before him, but the Mandalorian. He held a paper package beneath his arm, and appeared every bit as grim as the memory Corin had been about to relive.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Corin waved it off. He’d been woken by worse.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

The Mandalorian set the package down at his feet and took a step backwards to avoid Corin’s space.

“Something to change into,” he said, averting his gaze, “there’s no need to be walking around like that.”

“Oh. Thank you?”

The Mandalorian cleared his throat.

“Actually, I wanted to speak with you.”

Corin nodded, a wordless gesture to continue.

“When I met you on that planet, you looked like you needed help. Was that a lie?”

It was Corin’s turn to look away; a wave of bitterness flooding through him.

“I could lie to you right now – how would you know?”

“Corin I’m trying to help you –”

“Well you sure have a weird way of doing it!”

Corin clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on his tongue. He flinched on instinct, expecting to be struck for speaking out of turn. Instead the Mandalorian backed off, fists clenched and body tense.

He let out a heavy sigh and tried again.

“I need you to cooperate – otherwise I’ll have no choice –”

Corin waved him off, burying his face back into his raised knees.

It was a wonderful offer, but Corin had come to this conclusion already; he couldn’t put this family at risk. Nothing had changed

“Do what you need to do,” he said.

It looked like the Mandalorian might try again, despite his patience wearing thin. Instead he backed away entirely; headed back towards the ladder.

“Fine,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with more aggression than would ever be necessary, “have it your way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> few things; i am looking at making a new story very soon it'll be two parts and pure filth so keep your eyes peeled for that
> 
> again as always anyone and everyone feel free to reach out to me on tumblr at: Softdramahoe  
> i've been overwhelmed by the support this and all my other works have been getting and i absolutely love interacting with the community, even if you just pop into my asks with a :3 a writers biggest goal is to be recognised and acknowledges so you'll be helping my motivation (my ego) by a lot.
> 
> final thing most people won't be interested in this i'm sure but when i was younger i did a lot of original work that i worked incredibly hard on. i don't want that work to go to waste so i'm looking for a way to get it out of my documents and onto the internet. i might experiment with uploading it onto my tumblr piece by piece but i'm worried there won't be an audience for it so we'll see how that goes.
> 
> Anyway goodnight lovely readers it is 6am and i should be heading to bed before the sun wakes up and finds me here.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i say this every single time but this one really was difficult to write.  
> there is a lot of stuff in this chapter i really wasn't sure about; the subject matter is a little dark and i don't want to shy away from that so in most cases i let the characters take the reigns and write whatever comes naturally. in this case i feel like what came naturally was alittle weird - i'm eager to hear what everyone elses opinions are on this.
> 
> Also special thanks to an unregistered commenter "Confused" for giving me a lot to think about. now that i think again i don't think i've done my job by explaining anything but! i tried my best.
> 
> AS ALWAYS IF YOU ARE READING THIS WITHIN 24 HOURS OF BEING POSTED IT HAS ONLY UNDERGONE A VERY BREIF EDIT.

Corin allowed himself a reprieve of silence, after once more remembering how to silence his thoughts. The paper package sat heavy in his lap, a carefully wrapped portal leaning towards another life. Corin’s hands lay flat against the surface, fingers picked absently at the spaces where paper overlapped. His minor spat with the Mandalorian hadn’t left his mind when all the other thoughts had fled.

Corin felt as though he had been struck.

His body felt heavy. Corin had known despondence and resignation in equal measure. He had never met this bone deep exhaustion that stole movement from his body, and pressed hard against his chest like a heavy weight to keep his breath short. In the back of his mind. Corin wondered if he had ever known misery or mourning – if he had known sadness beyond the reverence of his past, and the acceptance of his future.

Giving up in a situation that seemed hopeless, was not the same ting as giving up hope. Corin realised now that he knew both – and that the latter was tearing through him like a knife weaving a sharp cold beneath his flesh that kept him staring at the wall for long minutes. Unblinking.

It took long moments of effort before Corin could lift his hand to the corner of the package. The tear of paper hit his ears too loud in the otherwise quiet cargo bay and he flinched away. The small rip revealed a flash of white cotton and a hint of black beyond that Corin let go – set the package aside. It was too much too fast.

He focussed instead on the robes that adorned his body – the shade of dusky purple flattering against his skin. He had worn this shade fore years – a ghost of words against his skin; _you look lovely this way, desert flower,”_ the memory sent a chill down Corin’s spine. The fabric burned against his arms, and along his thighs where the hem settled high above his knees. He clutched as much as he could in shaky hands and pulled the robes tight against himself – breathing in the smell of dust and sweat that clung between the fibres – before letting go.

Corin had to clutch the wall for support, but slowly he began to stand, he pulled at the robes, slowly removing them from his body. He took stock of all the tears in the fabric where stress had caused more wear than usual. A layer of dust covered the entire piece, with clumps of dirt concentrated at the bottoms of the sleeves and hanging on to the flowing edges.

Corn smiled briefly, wondering with an odd fondness just how much trouble he would be in for destroying his clothes. He remembered one time near the beginning when he had spilled a spot of soup on a flowly purple tunic and had been locked away from three days with no food as punishment. A single speck of dirt would have kept him inside of months until his skin lost all color from lack of natural light.

And a tear in the fabric would mean –

Corin threaded his thumbs into a hole that had formed along one short sleeve. He pulled the fabric taut, and continued to pull until it began to tear in his hands. He watched the hole grow bigger and bigger until the garment had been torn in two between his hands. He let the pieces fall to the ground. Ruined. Unwearable.

It was almost without thinking that Corin lifted the bigger half into his hands, searching out another rip and pulling it open – relishing in the sound it made as it was torn apart. The next time was more deliberate. Slowly, steadily, Corin destroyed the garish purple eyesore – cursed it’s creation, and it’s demanding weight against his being. Cursed the implications, the recognition, the cage that had clung to his skin even after his escape.

Corin continued to rip and tear, shredding pieces of fabric and discarding them just as quick until his fingers met something new. He ran his thumbs over the delicate stitching of his master’s insignia. The pattern was soft beneath the pads of his fingers – as soft as the fingers through his hair, the touch of a large hand settled against his heart, the smile that had set his teeth on edge with words spoken gently, _“Now everyone will know that you’re mine.”_

Corin clenched his jaw. He dug his bitten nails into the insignia and pulled until the threads began to fray at the edges. Threads of garish gold and black snapping, and separating from purple. The sight had Corin’s breath catching in his throat – a hiccup that devolved steadily into a sob.

Corin leaned back heavy against the wall – numb to the cold against his bare back. He raised his head, looking towards the roof and blinking rapidly to hold off the coming tears. Was this mourning? Corin had never known. He held the torn cloth against his chest – where his heart pounded hollow beneath his skin.

It shouldn’t mean this much, but Corin was scared of letting go. Of all the things he had felt the last few days Corin never thought this would be among them. He hated himself for it – felt sick right down to his core – but his body froze up with no will to destroy this final piece.

With shaking hands Corin drew the knife attached to his exposed thigh. He used careful movements to slice a square through the fabric, removing the insignia on a small patch he could easily hide.

Once free Corin discarded the rest of the ruined garment. He slid down to the ground, holding his head in his hands and allowed himself to grieve.

* * *

Corin took a long time to come to his senses. Every time he calmed down long enough to more, a new wave of nausea wracked his body, leaving Corin to keep himself wrapped tight on the ground until the shaking stopped.

He distracted himself by dressing in the new clothes he’d been given – welcoming the lack of color. It was strange to be wearing long sleeves after all this time, so Corin rolled them up to his elbows, feeling almost suffocated otherwise. The pants were different too, but too tight to be shortened, Corin spent long moments stretching his legs and bending his knees, trying to get used to the movement. He set the shoes aside, wanting to feel the cold against his feet as he moved about the ship – clinging to the fading memories of ice and snow between parted toes.

It felt like hours had gone by. Corin’s eyes were sore from frantic rubbing – trying to _scrape_ the tears from his skin. His throat was raw, face red and sticky. Exhaustion had settled heavy over his heart and he sat back in the same spot, surrounded by the ruins of his past.

The cargo bay was larger than any cell Corin had been kept in. enough space to lie down and stretch his limbs in four different directions, enough space to pace back and forth for hours on end. Enough space to forget that he wasn’t entirely alone.

The child had slept right through take off and had continued sleeping soundly, tucked away safe inside the wall. Corin was able to forget about the child – so at war with himself – until he heard the _whoosh_ of the compartment door opening.

The child stood rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand, mouth spread in a yawn. His eyes opened wide when he spotted Corin, and he reached out with both arms.

Corin couldn’t fathom getting up and crossing the room. He couldn’t even _think_ of taking the child in his arms with all the tenderness and care needed by one so small.

He pretended not to notice, even when he locked on to the child’s depthless eyes. A stab of guilt pierced Corin’s stomach, but he couldn’t make his body move. And the child must have thought it was a game; he simply huffed and began the process of climbing down on his own – jumping to the ground with more grace than should have been possible. He waddled along the ground on small feet, steadily approaching Corin, but stopped short – waiting for permission

He tilted his head, reaching an arm out towards Corin but nothing more.

“Hey,” Corin’s voice was faint, and the smile that formed felt near hysterical. Slowly he lowered his legs – unwrapping his arms from around his bent knees – and stretched out his own shaky hand. “Hey, come here,” he gestured forward and the child smiled, waddling into his arms.

He hated himself just that much more for giving in – wanting desperately to be strong and _not cave_ – but the child’s hand pressed firm against his heart, the weight of his head against Corin’s chest, and the warmth of his body in Corins arms, was enough to put all those bad feelings on hold.

He lifted a hand – body moving finally as he wanted it to, and that alone was enough to send a thrill thorugh his stomach – resting heavy against the child’s head and scratching the space behind one long ear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into the silent space, not sure what exactly he was apologising for, but feeling the words burn up inside his chest.

“I’m just – _sorry.”_

* * *

Corin had been lead many times towards an uncertain fate. It had never been within his ability to decide, and there had always been a level of comfort in knowing that wherever he ended up, it wouldn’t be his fault.

He was older now – the years had chipped away any comfort that he clung to and Corin knew his fate was still a decision he had to make. Whether he would fight for it or simply let it pass him by.

Corin pondered this as he held the child, half asleep in his arms. The reality of being his own person and of making his own decisions. The absolute terror of existing as a conscious mind rather than as something pretty to look at.

The child let out a soft noise where he was tucked against Corin’s shoulder, shifting in his grasp, he raised his head and looked over towards the ladder, before raising his head to look Corin in the eye.

Corin let out a sign and rose to his feet.

“Let’s go then” he said, voice much steadier after long moments of thought. His heart was still heavy with grief but it had simmered down, and he pushed it aside with the strength of a single breath.

“Let’s go and see what he’s up to.”

The child coo’d in response, dousing the anxiety that burned along Corin’s skin. Their argument was still fresh in Corin’s mind, and as he climbed the ladder he wondered if the Mandalorian had given it a single thought. Probably not. He had given it his best shot – not even that; a token attempt at best – and Corin had pushed him away.

He wasn’t worth the effort of staying angry.

Cori hesitated only briefly, before entering the cockpit. At that point it was easy to fall into old habits; he took long confident strides, keeping his shoulders squared and his head held high. His nerves spiked when the Mandalorian turned his head – showing that he was paying attention – but Corin calmed quickly when he noticed most of that attention was still focussed on the control console, and the expanse of space stretched out before them.

“Was he bothering you?” the Mandalorian’s tone was careful – _almost_ conversational.

Corin shrugged – shirt slipping down his left shoulder. He approached the basket set up against the console, lowering the child into it.

“Just thought he’d be happier up here. With you.”

He let his hands rest on the sides of the basket and watched the child settle in – digging beneath the covers for a bauble or other previous possession. He gave a parting wave and let go, ready to leave and isolate himself downstairs once more, but as he was pulling away the Mandalorian reached for him – hand very _nearly_ reaching out to grip Corin’s wrist, only to freeze in place.

Corin locked his feet in place – fighting the urge to run away. He stared first at the hand, still hovering too close to his wrist, then up the arm, across broad shoulders and further until he was staring right into the visor – the Mandalorian staring right back.

“Sorry,” he said – and it was _awful_ because what was there to apologise for. He turned away first and Corin took the chance to take a step back. Then another. He clutched his wrist tight to his chest, past the open end of his button shirt.

The Mandalorian turned to face him, and stopped short when he caught a full glimpse of Corin – new pants just a tad too tight, and shirt falling off his shoulders.

He raised a hand as though preparing to speak, before allowing it to drop. He repeated this action several times before giving up, and resting his helmet in his hands.

 _“Corin,”_ his name a sound of pure tension.

Corin took another step back, wondering what he had done wrong this time.

When the Mandalorian lifted his head again, he refused to turn it in Corin’s direction. The silence grew so heavy between them that Corin couldn’t even retreat – feet glued in place until told to leave.

He opened his mouth to apologise but the words wouldn’t come out before the Mandalorian began to stand.

“I’m sorry,” it was the Mandalorian who apologised, again for no reason, once on his feet he stayed a careful distance away, “You know you’re not wearing that right – _don’t you?”_

Corin looked down at himself – bewildered – having been unaware there was a wrong way to dress. He’d left the buttons of his shirt undone, exposing the pale skin of his chest to cool air, and displaying the odd patterns of tan lines left across his navel by various elaborate outfits. Corin was familiar with button shirts and knew how they were supposed to be worn – but he had never been asked in his life, to cover up.

_“Oh.”_

Corin gripped the edges of his shirt, shucking it properly onto his shoulders. He pulled the edges together, fumbling with the buttons and ultimately failing to get the first one done – fingers shaky and unable to hold on long enough

“Let me help.”

The Mandalorian spoke softly and stayed where he was — waited until Corin welcomed him forward.

Corin held tight to the top of his shirt with the collar pinched between his thumb and forefinger. The Mandalorian started from the bottom, pulling the fabric tight against Corin’s waist. The bare brush of fingers against his skin sent a panic response shooting down Corin’s spine, but he swallowed it down – safe in the hesitance the Mandalorian had shown; the smallest action sparking a hint of _trust_ that scared him in an entirely different way. He took a deep breath as those fingers drew higher – dropped his own grip on the shirt, letting his hands fall away.

The Mandalorian stopped at the last few buttons, holding the fabric in his hands before letting go and drawing back completely. They stood just a few feet apart – close enough that Corin could stare into his own eyes reflected in the visor.

“You can stay,” the Mandalorian looked away first, the words coming out softly, “there’s no need to isolate yourself.”

Despite himself, Corin felt a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.

“that’ll only make things harder in the end,” he said.

The Mandalorian shrugged, “we’ve got a long way to go. You might change your mind about needing help.” He stopped, frozen again when Corin began to roll up his sleeves. With a sigh he said, “should have gotten you a jacket.”

He shook his head and turned back towards the pilots chair – neither of them having noticed the child as he climbed across the console, until he tripped over a flashing red button.

The speakers burst to life with a crackle and whine – the sound hurting Corin’s ears.

“It’s the transmitter,” the Mandalorian said, rushing forward to snatch the child away. “Didn’t pay to have it fixed – looks like someone’s found us.”

He settled into the pilots chair and placed the child into his basket all in one motion.

“Think we can outrun them?” he asked the child, who simply tilted his head and tightened his small fists around the edge of his basket. The Mandalorian then turned back to Corin, flipping several switches on the control console as a warning blast fired right past the ship. “You should probably sit down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for your continued support i live for the comments i receive on this work.
> 
> Please remember to leave your theories in the comments because i enjoy them so much, and as always reach out to me @softdramahoe on tumblr with any questions or suggestions - i'm always open for discussion; it doesn't even have to be about Mandorin. i know nothing about anything; stop by and educate me.
> 
> Last update i mentioned i wanted to start posting original work as well. obviously no one is obligated to but if you were interested you can find that [ HERE ](https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/221018444-powerless)


	9. Crash and Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back! ugh this took a long time to write, not because it was difficult but because my motivation has been so low lately. i felt really trash after the last time i posted, inexplicably, but i think i might be back in the swing of things.
> 
> AS ALWAYS IF YOU ARE READING THIS WITHIN 24 HOURS OF BEING POSTED IT IS UNEDITED.

Corin sat rigid in his seat, hands held tight in his lap. He had to wonder how often an unsuspecting spacecraft might come under fire during travels. Perhaps the Mandalorian had a lot of enemies – surely a possibility, given his line of work. Maybe they weren’t after Corin at all, and maybe this couldn’t be fixed with a few simple words – an offer to give himself up.

Corin’s fingers pulled at the bottom of his shirt – the feeling of being covered still unfamiliar. He pushed against the buttons, shying away from the ghost of the Mandalorian’s touch where it seemed to linger on his skin. There was no time to linger on petty thoughts; not when shots were being fired, barely missing the crest – bursts of light just barely outside their line of vision.

A rough motion had the ship jerking, nearly sending Corin flying from his seat. On the other side of the cockpit the child squealed in delight, hands flailing about in the air as he was tossed around in his basket.

“Sorry,” the Mandalorian muttered. The next work came out like a curse. Another sharp movement had a bright burst of light exploding off to their right. He turned his head to the child and said, “ _you_ could shoot better than that.”

The smile was evident in his voice.

Corin sank further into his seat. The Mandalorian’s earlier offer still hung heavy in his head

_“you might change your mind about needing help.”_

And if this was some ill-advised stand to protect him – well Corin simply couldn’t handle that.

He looked to the child, clinging tight to the edges of his basket – a smile plastered on, soaking in the excitement of the moment. Then to the Mandalorian, not shaken in the slightest despite the severity of the situation. He seemed to run on autopilot, dodging shots as soon as they were fired. Never so much as shifted by the weight of the ship. This was something they had prepared for – something they had done before. Doubtless the Mandalorian had captured many high-profile bounties in his past.

The Mandalorian reached out, grabbing the child by the collar of his little cloak and lifting him from his basket. He sat the child down on his lap, wrapping an arm around him safe and secure. He turned his head just slightly and Corin perked up, anxious to miss whatever might be said.

“Hold on tight,” the Mandalorian warned, flipping a few switches above head, “ship wasn’t built for this – could get pretty rough.”

Corin did as he was told – scrambled to get a hold on his chair, and plant his feet firmly against the ground. His body ached from tensing so hard but none of this stopped him from being launched across the cockpit by a manoeuvre that nearly had the RazorCrest upside down. He was thrown from his chair, hitting his back hard against the ground. In the next moment the ship took a sharp turn that had Corin dragging across the floor, coming to rest against the basket – having miraculously stayed standing.

The child looked down at him curiously from his perch. He titled his head and offered a small hand to hold. Corin simply smile back, not ready to touch.

“You okay?” the Mandalorian asked. He didn’t look away for a second. Not out of danger yet.

Corin raised a hand to grip the basket hoping it would keep him steady through the next turn. He dragged his knees up towards his chest, trying to hide from further impact, and without really thinking he said, “the kid could fly better than that.”

He saw the Mandalorian’s hand pause for a second over the controls – the action sending a wave of pure panic through Corin. He’d spoken out of turn. He’d said the wrong thing. He had insulted the man responsible for saving his life! How awful of him, did he not have a single grateful bone in his body?

The Mandalorian snorted. The sound startled Corin but was unmistakably in good humour.

“you’re right,” he said, and the next harsh jerk of the ship was definitely intentional. “I’ll try to be careful.”

Corin allowed himself to take a deep breath. He pulled himself up a little higher, just enough to see over the control panel. A flashing red light caught his eye on the other side; the child trying and failing to reach for it – stopped each time by the Mandalorian, patiently pushing his small hand out of reach.

“We’re getting another transmission.”

“Is that bad?”

The Mandalorian paused again, as if deciding the best way to answer. His brief slip allowed the child to reach forward and hit the flashing light, again sending a harsh crackle through the cockpit. Corin reached up instinctively to cover his ears but stopped when the crackle faded to form words.

_“This is your last chance; surrender the asset or we will be forced –”_

The transmission cut off, leaving a heavy silence to settle over the cockpit. The Mandalorian drew his hand away from the button slowly, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It means there’s more than one ship.”

the Mandalorian hit another switch and turned fully in his seat. He held the child out with one hand – waited all of two seconds before realising Corin wasn’t going to take him, and simply let the child clamber to the ground.

“It means this is going to be tougher than I first thought,” he said, casting a quick glance towards the controls where the ship itself was expertly dodging fire. He looked back down at Corin, who was still curled around himself in a minor state of shock. “Not impossible. We can get out of this.”

Corin nodded. He felt numb. He felt as though he should be panicking – maybe that would come later.

“Are they after –” _me?_

It felt stupid to even ask.

The Mandalorian must have thought so himself; he didn’t’ bother to answer.

“there’s a planet not too far from here. We’re going to land; face these guys head on.”

Corin’s stomach sank. He began to shake his head. The Mandalorian reached out for him – Corin _wanted_ to be comforted this time; didn’t even think of running away – but he stopped. Thought better of it. Their eyes met, Corin staring at his own reflection through the visor.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“You said you could shoot? Might be time to prove it.”

The Mandalorian looked away first, as always leaving a hollow feeling in Corin’s chest. He wasn’t used to it. Not being looked at. Not being _wanted_ – and if that thought didn’t make him sick, it was only because of the nerves already wracking through him.

“Go downstairs. Take the child with you. I’ll handle this.”

* * *

Corin wandered downstairs in a haze. He didn’t spare a single thought towards the child until he was seated in the cargo bay, holding his head in his hands.

The child toddled over, carried along on tiny legs. It took him a moment to make his way towards Corin, and his journey was cut short by a shockwave through the ship. With a startled yelp, the child was thrown to the ground in a tiny heap. Corin didn’t have to think about it before he was rushing forward; scooping the child up and wrapping him in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, nestling his chin against the top of the child’s head. He took a deep, shuddering breath and wrapped himself tighter around the child.

A fresh shockwave proved this to be the best idea. The pair were pressed back harsh against the wall, shaken in the impact but otherwise unharmed.

“This is all my _fault._ ”

The child squirmed in Corin’s arms, wormed his way up to poke his head above the secure embrace. He looked up, blinking with depthless eyes. He even reached a hand out towards Corin’s face, but stopped himself short. With a tilt of his head and a curious glance towards his own hand the child sat back, resting heavy against Corin’s arm.

Guilt weighed down in his chest, stealing every breath before he could take it. Corin lifted his head and hit it heavy against the wall behind him, hoping for something easier to feel.

All of this for nothing.

The Mandalorian probably thought he was a runaway who had fallen on hard times – made a couple of bad decisions. Still salvageable. Still _worth saving_.

Corin allowed himself to believe it for just a moment. With his eyes shut tight, arms wrapped around himself – wrapped protectively around the child. The sound of missed fire was inconsequential – barely there.

He imagined asking for help – giving in to the all consuming _fear_ of the auction house, the leering eyes of potential bidders, the uncertainty of what lay beyond the whims of rich men.

Corin kept his eyes shut against it all, and wondered what it would be like. If it would be hard, begging for protection, pleading with the Mandalorian to take him somewhere safe. To take him _home._

And he would do it. Corin knew he would. Because he didn’t know any better. He didn’t know what Corin was or what he had been through. He had no idea what waited on the other side of the bounty puck, and it was better if he didn’t find out.

Corin wondered if he would ask for an explanation. He wondered if he could even bring himself to tell the truth – and how would the Mandalorian react?

Disgust. That was a given.

He wouldn’t want Corin around the child anymore – if he had any sense, he would lock Corin in the cargo bay and be done with it.

Corin raised his head and blinked his eyes open. The corners were wet with tears, and he choked out a half-hearted laugh when the child’s hands came up to grab at his face, wiping away all traces of sadness. The child offered him and almost-smile and Corin bowed his head.

“We’re okay,” he said, desperate to believe it himself. He bounced the child in his arms, grounded by the movement and the happy chirps he earned. “We’ll be okay,” he said again, voice firm if only so the child would trust him. In turn the child reached out to grasp his face again, squeezing his cheeks between grabby hands. Eyes oddly focussed as though trying to communicate the same message.

Once more the ship began to shake and lurch, with more intensity than before. They hadn’t been hit – Corin hadn’t heard an explosion or far off blast of energy in a while – though too wrapped up in his thoughts to pay attention. He met eyes with the child – now clinging to his arm for dear life as the tremors only got worse.

They were landing; they must be. It hadn’t been this rough on the desert planet with not a single gust of wind to stray their course. There must be storm outside, raging against the ship. Winds strong enough to blow them right out of the sky.

With one breath Corin imaged they might crash and burn – forgotten in the ruins of a forest or smashed against a cliff-face. With the next breath he let his heart thrill at the thought of snowy planes and grey skies – the icy chill of home even if he was no where near it.

A harsh shove against the ship had them _falling._ Corin felt the rush of it in his stomach – felt his body leave the ground just slightly. The engine was spluttering, louder than he had ever heard it, fighting a losing battle against the elements. The ship took a gradual dip forward, Corin and anything else that wasn’t tied down, dragging toward the front. He turned his body quickly, sheltering the child between himself and the wall as untethered crates and loose items crashed around them.

The child climbed Corin’s shirt, straining to look over his shoulder at the oncoming barrage of potential weapons. He raised a hand over Corin’s shoulder, small body tense with concentration, and Corin heard a loud _crash_ as a large crate hit the wall to their left. The child fell back just slightly, collapsing back into Corin’s arms as the ship began to shake violently. Their decent was slowing; perhaps hindered by tree tops – or _water_. He struggled for a second to recall ever learning to swim. He had been called on before to stand at the edge of luxurious pools and be pretty – the memories left a bitter taste in his mouth that lingered when he blinked them away. And the lakes were always frozen on his home planet, fit for skating and full of ancient carnivorous beasts, so never fit for swimming even on the rare occasions when the sun would melt the snow.

If they hit open water Corin knew he would drown. Slowly. Trapped instead the ship as it filled with water. A giant metal coffin.

The thought just about had him on his feet – would have had him running if the ship weren’t off balance. It was only a minor stroke of good luck when the RazorCrest crashed – skidding to a painful stop – that not a single drop of water broke the seal.

They stayed still for a long time after the ship stopped moving. Long enough for the adrenaline to fade and the sound of rain against metal to reach their ears. The fierce winds still pushed and shoved against the ship, roaring just outside metal walls.

it was the child who began to move first. he wriggled and squirmed in Corin’s grasp, pushing at his arms until he was free. Once on the ground the child began to toddle towards the ladder, leading up to the cockpit. He looked back expectantly at Corin.

“It’s quiet up there.”

The child continued to stare, wordless gaze insistent.

“Okay. Let’s check it out. I’m sure he’s okay.”

Corin lifted the child into his arms and began the climb on unsteady legs. He wanted to turn away, protect himself from what he might find. His mind conjured every gruesome scene imaginable – doubtless the Mandalorian would have come to check on them if he were able. Something must have been stopping him.

The cockpit was a mess. The child’s basket was on the round, baubles and shiny possesions strrwn across the floor. The Mandlorian was slumped forward in the pilots seat, body leaning heavy against the control panel. Corin rushed over, settlng the child down before checking for signs of life.

“Oh no – _oh no,_ please don’t be dead,” he reached out a shaky hand towards the Mandalorian’s shoulder but couldn’t bring himself to touch. “Please – _please wake up.”_

Unwittingly Corin watched the ship change around him, blurring at the edges. Cold black and grey replaced by lush reds and golds. A familiar room, familiar bed, a pair of eyes so familiar staring right through him. Dead. His hand trembled as he reached towards the edge of the Mandalorian’s helmet. He had to know it wasn’t a familiar face watching him from behind the visor. He had to know this wasn’t another lie.

His fingers grazed against cold metal – heart pounding in his chest.

Just as quick a gloved hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. A gasp left the Mandalorian’s mouth as though his airways had been blocked until that moment. His grasp tightened around Corin’s wrist for the briefest moment before falling away – the touch just enough to ground Corin back in reality before it was gone. He pulled his hand away whispering a litany of apologies that surely went unheard – and a silent prayer of thanks to whoever would listen, that the Mandalorian was still alive.

Any feelings of gratitude were terribly short lived. As with any pleasant moment – with what little in life Corin could truly call pleasant – bad luck followed right after to steal the day.

He turned to scoop the child up off the control panel, where he sat looking heavy and worn out. His body sagged into Corin’s arms and he rested his head heavy against Corin’s chest.

Just above the control panel and through the haze of rain, Corin saw a light flashing ahead. Too bright at first to make out more than the shapes of surrounding trees, Corin stared on with caution – considering the logistics of dragging the Mandalorian to safety should he need to; if that light was an oncoming collision.

As he watched, another light appeared, further away than the last. This new source of light illuminated a shape drawing closer, lowering to the ground.

Corin’s stomach sank. It was a ship. Two of them.

The Mandalorian showed no signs of waking up. The RazorCrest was out of commission – not that Corin knew how to fly it.

They were _trapped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter went a bit off track, i had a different ending planned, and a different way to get there but this works too.
> 
> as always comments are much appreciated, this story is growing and changing every time i sit down to write it so it's always lovely to read predictions and see if they match up to what i have planned or what i've already set aside.
> 
> last thing, as always feel free to dm me on tumblr @softdramahoe i appreciate all kinds of messages. even fire.


	10. Just Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a lot longer than i expected. some people will say that is the exact opposite of a problem, but those people have not read this chapter.
> 
> AS ALWAYS when you read my updates within 24 hours you take a chance on a heavily unedited work.

Corin could count on both hands the amount of times he had feared for his life. For what little had had left of a life. For _years_ the concept of fear had melted into every day, and Corin had learned to stand tall even when his heart was near stopping.

It wasn’t a skill he was proud to have – not one he had ever wanted to learn. But with a flash of lightning on a storm raged planet, fear came bolting back into his system. The weight of it against his body almost had Corin collapsing; knees buckling under the pressure. In the next second he had gathered the child into his arms and was fleeing the cockpit – nearly tripping over himself with every step. The lack of coordination at this of all times, had a burst of frustration burning against his skin – so intense it brought tears to his eyes.

As Corin ambled down the ladder, only a single thought filled his mind. Escape. He had to run away. If he could figure out how to open the ship he could run. They were surrounded by trees – and _rain_. In a chase he might just have the upperhand. He could outrun two bounty hunters, surely. Maybe find somewhere to hide. Somewhere to wait out the storm. The Mandalorian could wake up any moment. He would know what to do.

Corin froze, halfway through the cargo bay where the ramp would extend towards freedom.

If these hunters had trackers – which they undoubtedly did – then it was over. He couldn’t outrun them forever. Not even in the rain and cold. Not with the child tucked tight against his chest. Not together – it would never work. There was only one thing to do.

Corin turned on his heels, resolute. He marched through the cargo bay, shoulders squared, a soft hand against the back of the child’s head. He passed the locked panel housing a selection of weapons, and considered yet another choice. The thought of blood on his hands made Corin’s stomach twist – he was an ornament; an object of display, not war. He had learned to shoot so long ago it almost felt like another life.

Frozen yet again, Corin couldn’t bring himself to do it. With adrenaline coursing through his body it was always flight – the all consuming urge to run away, the tension of it sending a visceral ache through his muscles. He couldn’t fight even if his life depended on it.

Corin turned away, shoulders slumped in defeat.

He approached his original target, and with the press of a few buttons a hole opened up in the wall. A hidden compartment laid out with blankets and shiny baubles. A safe place, big enough for the child to stretch out at night – big enough for them both to hide if only the thought didn’t make Corin’s stomach sink.

Stooping down to rest on his knees, Corin placed the child gently at the edge of his small hide away. He fussed with nervous hands, tugging the child’s robes into place and dragging frantically over long ears in apology.

“I’m sorry kid,” he whispered, voice shaking so hard the words barely came out complete. “I am so sorry – if I’d known this would happen I never would have –” Corin shook his head. There was no time to explain. He didn’t deserve it.

The child simply stared on with wide eyes, one hand outstretched towards Corin. The simple gesture had his chest tightening up, and Corin forced himself to look away.

“Just stay here where it’s safe,” his words nothing more than a plea, “I’ll buy you some time – I just hope it will be enough.”

Corin rose to his feet, body swaying with the movement. He stepped away, hovered his finger over the control to seal the child away. He offered a smile – his tongue burned with the weight of his lie.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice betraying him, “We’ll see each other again. Promise.”

He was mere inches form pressing the button, when a tremor wracked the ship. Beyond the sound of wind and rain, Corin could hear voices – an argument playing out in the cold.

It was too late to run. Corin’s heart sank with the thought.

He was too indecisive – too much of a coward. He’d put them all at risk by running away in the first place, and had made it worse by doing nothing now. How easy it had been to act on thoughts of freedo and the unknown. Now that the consequences were laid flat ahead Corin couldn’t move.

Another tremor shook the ship, too strong to be the wind. The child stared up from his perch, both arms extended; begging to be held. Begging for the safety of a warm embrace.

Corin looked back towards the end of the ship, body shaking even when the ground was still. He could make this work, he could wait for the bounty hunters to breach the ship. He could give himself up – hold his head high with the knowledge that he was _finally_ doing the right thing.

A tug on the bottom of his shirt had Corin looking back towards the child. Towards the secret compartment. Hidden away. _Safe._

Maybe they would give up looking

Maybe the Mandalorian would wake up on time to come up with a solution.

Maybe the hunters would think their trackers were broken, or that the signal was distorted by the storm.

Or maybe, just maybe, Corin was a thankless coward who couldn’t spare a single thought towards the value of others lives. He was only out for himself. A horrid beast bent on destroying the only happiness his heart had ever known.

These thoughts rolled over Corin’s skin in a wave of bitterness, even as he climbed headfirst into the hidden compartment – pulled along by the child’s grabby hands. The space was _just_ big enough for Corin to sit upright, the top of his head grazed the cool metal of the roof, pushing his hair flat. He could lie down if he bent his legs at a slight angle, and couldn’t spread his arms out in either direction. The space was too small – too similar to cages he’d been kept in before – and surely there wasn’t enough air for more than one or two breaths.

Corin took a deep breath and held it in his chest. He scooped the child into his arms and clenched his eyes shut as he closed the compartment door from inside. The dark against his eyelids was a calming lie; showing an infinity inside the confines of his cage. If he couldn’t see the walls then they did not exist. If he couldn’t see the door then it was not closed. Slowly Corin released the breath held tight in his lungs. He held the child close to his chest and waited.

Amidst the sound of rain and wind, Corin strained to hear the bounty hunters at their door. A horrible moment of silence hung over the ship before a deafening blast.

The RazorCrest shuddered so violently Corin was almost certain it would tip. No doubt the door had been torn off – or otherwise broken through – bringing with it a wave of cold that put the snow to shame.

The child crowded closer to Corin’s chest, burrowing in where the buttons of his shirt were undone. Corin cracked his eyes open a fraction and rested his hand heavy against the child’s head.

“Shh,” he cooed as quiet as possible, “It’s going to be okay.”

The elements were thunderous. The roar of the wind, and wild hiss of rain. Two sets of footsteps bounded onto the ship; the sound of wet boots heavy against solid ground they started off far away, but neither person wasted a second before bounding further into the ship.

 _“We know you’re here,”_ a voice called out, the sound a drawn out trill. Like calling out for an animal.

“You idiot, you’ll scare him off,” a second voice hissed.

Corin wanted to sink back into the metal, but even the slightest movement would give him away, footsteps continued, heavy and slow. As they approached, Corin’s breath shallow, heart pounding in his chest.

The child lifted his head, a soft sound falling from his mouth, causing Corin to tense up completely.

The footsteps came to a complete stop, the final step sounding too close. For a tense moment only the howl of the storm filled the air.

“Found you.”

The words spoken with such confidence – an air of finality that had Corin’s stomach turning. His breath caught in his throat at the sound of buttons pressed. His first instinct was to dive forward and force the door to remain closed – dig his nails into the smooth metal if necessary, even if his hands ended up in a bloodied mess. He wasn’t fast enough to try and all too soon the compartment door whooshed open, revealing a pair of blasters held at the ready; the sight familiar in an almost calming way.

one of the bounty hunters – a scruffy, wet rat of a man – seemed surprised; taking a half step away when he met eyes with Corin.

“That’s not a Mandalorian,” he grumbled, nudging his partner with a sharp elbow. His words were met with a sneer form the other man – a solemn faced boulder of a man, body built up for intimidation but Corin felt no fear.

“It’s just a stowaway,” this man said, voice dismissive, he lowered his blaster and gestured towards Corin, “Hand over the child.”

“What?” Corin had stared down a blaster many times in his past, and was almost surprised to say it didn’t phase him. He shifted his body slightly, shielding the child. “ _No._ he’s just a baby – there’s no need to involve him.”

The blaster was raised in his face again. Corin merely blinked.

“Are we going to have a problem?”

The now aggravated bounty hunter reached a hand out towards Corin – _towards the child_. Without even thinking about it Corin hit the control panel to close the compartment door again, slamming it shut against the hunters hand.

With no plan of action Corin pushed himself further into the compartment until his back hit the far wall. He listened to the howl of pain that was let out, followed by a harsh _thump_ against the metal and the unmistakable sound of blaster fire.

He had seen the door open beyond the hunters, and considered running yet again. Was it possible these men were actually slavers? What would they want with the child?

It was too late to grab a weapon – though the knife he’d been given just a day ago was still secured around his thigh, sitting outside the material of his too-tight pants. The child clung to his arm, small clawed fingers digging in against the skin. He held a hand against the child’s head, keeping him safe, and whispered gentle lies.

It’s okay,” he cooed again, feeling the child tremble against him, “don’t be scared.”

It was hard to keep his assurances calm all things considered. The compartment door was inevitably ripped open and Corin couldn’t fight the strong grip against his ankle – frightfully reminiscent of the shackles he had once worn. Corin allowed himself to be pulled to the ground, child wrapped safe in his arms the entire time. He hit the ground hard, catching the majority of the weight on his elbows – the impact sent a shock through his body and he collapsed just as quick.

A harsh tug against the collar of his shirt had Corin lifted to his knees, fighting the feeling of being choked. He was brought face to face with the balding boulder of a hunter. He opened his mouth to e say something – no doubt another vile threat – with his blaster holstered and free hand reaching towards the child.

Corin twisted his body away, shielding the child. With a burst of fire heating up in his chest Corin leaned forward and spat right in the man’s face.

Maybe he was out of his mind – maybe suicidal. There was a solid second where Corin wasn’t sure if he would live or die, before he was thrown against the wall. The very next second the blaster was back in his face and Corin didn’t dare blink. He was ready for it.

“Hey wait – _wait!”_ the wet rat spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention. He held an item in his hand familiar by now, and held it out towards his partner. “I’ve seen this kid before – _look.”_

For the second time in a matter of days, Corin was confronted by his own image projected in front of him.

The blaster was lowered. The trigger-happy hunter stepped back, a growl rumbling through him.

“Figures,” he said, “We’ll take them both – the baby alone is worth more than your ship; but with the slave well be able to retire early.”

 _“Ex-slave,”_ Corin bit out, finding a shred of pride for possibly the first time in his life.

He grit his teeth against the pain of being pulled up by his hair – and the odd peripheral drag of the child’s claws against his skin.

“According to this,” the enraged hunter waved his own bounty puck in Corin’s face, “you weren’t ever freed, now were ya? The don’t take too kindly to runaway slaves on the auction block; you mightn’t be good for anything more than spare parts.

That filthy hand travelled down from Corin’s hair, leaving a strip of rain water along his skin and across his jawline. The action burned across Corin’s skin, _consuming him,_ and when those thick fingers strayed too close to his mouth Corin lurched forward and bit down hard enough to draw blood.

He burst into action at the first opportunity; dashing to his feet like a tightly wound spring. Corin sprinted through the cargo bay. A blaster shot above his head gave no more pause than the sound of yelling following after him.

He bounded towards the open door – the open _cold_ – child tucked tight against his neck. he heard footsteps bounding after him; both men giving chase. Corin didn’t dare look back or listen as his body began to scream – crying out after only a few steps. This was bigger than him. More important. If he couldn’t run or fight for his own life he could at least –

A blaster shot off near his feet, sending Corin tumbling to the ground. He took the weight of the fall on his shoulder, the impact stealing the air from his lungs. He rolled over onto his back, but could barely _think_ of sitting up before a heavy boot was pressing own on his chest.

“You’re going to regret that,” the man growled, nursing his injured hand close to his chest. _“Grab the kid.”_

The rat came forward, stopped down to grab the child from Corin’s grasp. He was in too much pain to resist, though his hand reached out to follow as the child was taken away.

“No one said we had to bring you in _whole.”_

The words meant nothing to him; Corin having been practically raised on threats. He refused to stand even with a hand tugging on his collar; pulling tight so the material cut off his air supply. If this was it – if he was finally being taken back – he would put up as much resistance as he could. Even if it _hurt._ If only to buy a few more seconds for the child –

The child who was now squirming in the arms of a stranger, frantic to break free as they entered the chilling rain.

“It’s okay kid,” he called out, in a last ditch effort to be comforting, “you’ll be all right.”

And if he’d known the kid had a bounty on his head too, Corin would have done things _differently._ He would have run. He would have taken up a weapon. He would have planned to fight back. The thoughts burned through him, filling him with a scorching shame and a thought that lingered back towards the knife he was too frightened to use.

The rain drowned any sound of warning – a dry cackle as Corin was tossed down the partially extended ramp. He hit the muddy ground with a sick _splash_ and he wasn’t quick enough to rise before he was being grabbed again – a harsh hand in his hair.

Corin tried to struggle out of the grasp – tried to pull and tug himself free. It didn’t work and his curses were swallowed by the storm.

The rat made no attempt at sheltering the child from the rain and Corin’s heart ached to see his large ears flatten against his head; eyes scrunching up against the cold. He reached a hand out towards Corin, small fingers clenching in concentration and Corin reached back even if they would never touch. He strained forward against the grasp on his hair – and with a sharp tug those fingers were slipping, leaving Corin to fall forward onto his hands and knees.

He caught himself quick enough to see the Rat freeze in his tracks, a look of mixed concern and confusion written over his face. Looking back Corin saw the cause – the other hunter had a hand around his throat, gasping for air.

Looking frantically between the rat and his partner, Corin saw the child still with his hand out – small body shaking with the effort to hold himself up. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots – though the rat never quite seemed to put the pieces together.

Corin had no idea how long this was last, and with a dozen separate regrets all on the tip of his tongue his fingers closed tight around the hilt of his small knife – not once had it been drawn in all the time he’d had it. Perhaps he really _was_ out of his mind, but Corin could think of worse endings. His body wads burning, not a single inch left without a horrid ache but he pushed through it knowing this might be the only chance he would get – and damn any reservations he’d had only moments before; everything was different now and the stakes had gone through the roof.

Knife held between both hands, Corin ran forward, and with as much force as his tired body could manage, he stabbed the blade right through the Rat’s stomach. He didn’t even have a chance to draw his blaster before the impact – barely even saw it coming before his knees were buckling and he was falling, empty hand pressing against his stomach where red gushed from the open wound.

Rain water washed the colour from Corin’s hand and from his blade. He didn’t have enough time to grab the child before a blast of light shot past him – zipping close enough for him to feel the heat against his face.

The child’s focus had broken and when Corin turned back the other hunter was on his feet. He barely had the time to register this fact before the next shot was fired – _hitting him square in the chest._

The pain wasn’t there like he thought it would be – like it should have been – instead replaced by a thick numb, as though he were falling through honey.

Maybe the pain would come later.

Maybe later didn’t exist.

If he couldn’t figure out how to Breathe again Corin thought absently – when even his thoughts were numb – that this might be it.

He blinked once and upon dragging his eyes open, Corin was met with the sky.

Filled with thick grey clouds and fat drops of falling rain. The cold seeped in through his fingertips and Corin’s joints were quickly numbed.

This might be the closest he would get to home; fingers digging into muddy pools of rain, like ice beneath his skin.

Another blast of light – another shot fired. Corin barely saw the reflection of it; barely registered the direction it came from or what it might mean. His vision was blurring at the edges; heavy grey shifting towards winter white. Memories of happier times stealing the show as they often did before he drifted off.

“Corin?”

The sound of his name was drowned out by the pounding of snow – or was it _rain_ – falling around him. The voice far off and distorted. Frantic.

“Corin? Corin can you hear me?”

And more words that sounded like curses but only in tone. Corin tried to reach out but couldn’t tell if his hand was even lifting.

“Try not to move –” a hand heavy on his chest; Corin found he didn’t so much mind being touched anymore. More words were spoken, but not registered, the sound fading into the back of his mind as Corin’s vison went completely black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired. this took so much effort to write. really.  
> there was a lot that needed to be cleared up and wrapped up by this chapter. this wasn't even the original ending for the chapter. Corin is a very difficult muse to work with sometimes.  
> As always validate me in the comments, otherwise validate me on tumblr @softdramahoe  
> i love writing for myself, but hearing what you think matters to me as well.


	11. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired. Y'all have no idea. I had the plot for this chapter all ready, i sat down, and got it done. do i regret it? no. do i wish i had something a bit meatier to provide? of course. Did have fun writing this? i always do.
> 
> AS ALWAYS: the editing is very minimal within the first 24 hours; if you read this fic within that timeframe any typos are on you.

Corin woke with a heavy weight against his chest, keeping his breath shallow and short. As consciousness flooded his body, so too did a sharp pain; starting from the tips of his fingers and burning right down to his toes. His body was numb in the worst parts – his head and chest both feeling as though submerged in honey; too thick to pull through.

This was nothing new. Corin had taken many beatings in his life and been left broken and bloody in the aftermath. More than once Corin had been left to die in the wake of his master’s rage, only to be later scooped up and tended to by grudging guards who would surely rather bury him, than have to carry his battered body to safety.

Corin couldn’t immediately remember what he’d done wrong this time.

He’d played the part of amorous servant during dinner, and hadn’t shown too much interest in their guest. Was he missing something? Perhaps the memory would come back over time. If not surely one of his attentive guards would happily recount the tale for him – sparing no details of course; the guard staff had always taken a special joy in watching his punishments. The privilege was second only to watching him struggle to complete his regular duties with no time to recover.

Corin opened his eyes slowly, having only just realised they were closed. There was no huge difference between the dark of his eyelids and the gloom of his cell. But he wasn’t in his cell – no, that became particularly apparent when Corin’s vision cleared and he registered the stark white of the roof. Thick wooden beams and painted plaster stood in place of the crumbled stone he was used to – and a window to his left, if the subtle draft meant anything.

His heart began to hammer, aching in his chest as more and more details surfaced. Had he been _sold?_ Given away for whatever slight caused his injury? The smell of clean linen was unpleasant against his nose – lacking the comforting desert stench. And the bed was too _soft_ beneath him, feeling more like the languid mornings he’d spent warming his master’s sheets. Just the thought of it made him sick – the odd reaction only adding to his confusion.

Corin tried to sit up. He really tried. The pain in his stomach forced him back before he could even _think_ about getting out of bed. He collapsed against the mattress, clutching his stomach and taking a sharp breath between grit teeth.

What had happened to him?

A surge of panic raced through him, and Corin closed his eyes against it. He tried to focus on breathing slow, but anything more than a quick burst of air hurt too much to keep down. He tried to clear his mind; worry about the what and why once he’d calmed down. If something terrible had happened he would figure it out eventually.

There was no hurry. No need to panic no need to stand up and run –

This thought caused a bitter laugh to reach his lips. Where would he run? Even if he could get out of the fortress he would never make it through the desert. Especially not in this _storm._

Corin leaned back against the pillows and listened to the rain as it rattled against the walls.

The sound of water against the window was strikingly familiar, and yet for as long as Corin had lived in the desert he couldn’t remember a single time it had rained.

With this very thought on the tip of his tongue, Corin grit his teeth together and sat up through the pain. His stomach burned with even the slightest movement, and the sheer agony of sitting straight had tears welling in his eyes.

The last few days rushed back in a blur. Escaping the fortress – flying away in a rickety space craft. The Mandalorian who promised to cage him, and free hi in virtually the same breath. And the child. The child he had failed to protect.

It was with a wave of shame that Corin remembered being attacked. He had been too weak to protect the child. Too much a coward. If it wasn’t for the Mandalorian’s timely arrival, they might _both_ be dead. Or worse.

Corin buried his head in his hands. He didn’t deserve to be here. Alive. The Mandalorian should have left him to bleed out in the rain – at least then he might have died serving a purpose.

Maybe his bounty was worth the trouble.

Corin rose to his feet, driven only by relief. The very last thing he remembered was the hollow sound of his name – a gloved hand against his face and soft assurances that everything would be okay. The fact that he was even alive meant the child was perfectly fine, and yet Corin’s stomach still swirled with doubt. He approached the door with an arm wrapped tight around his waist, legs struggling to carry his weight. He was drawn forward despite the pain, by the sound of voices below. Unfamiliar words in an unfamiliar language. Maybe he had been left behind. Maybe that was for the best.

It was a struggle getting the door open – just stretching far enough to reach the handle was almost too much.

Once Corin stepped through the threshold his panic was almost renewed. The hallway was completely blank of any remarkable features. No other doors. Lights evenly spaced. An identical distance left and right. Was he still dreaming? Was this some kind of horrible nightmare? Corin had to close his eyes against the desire to run away. No matter which way he went Corin was certain he would get lost. He stayed against the wall, free hand wedged inside the door. He was only startled out of his reveries by the sound of footsteps coming close.

Corin lifted his head first, bleary eyes scanning the area and finding nothing. In the back of his mind a little voice told him he was being irrational and yet this didn’t stop him from trying to get away. He leaned heavy against the wall and began to hobble off in the other direction, hoping to disappear around the corner before the footsteps caught up. What would happen next bore no though; Corin could only think of immediate escape.

“Corin?”

He had barely managed two steps before he was frozen in place; the sound of that voice filling him with an unexpected warmth. Corin stayed still as the sound of careful footsteps approached him – didn’t even _flinch_ at the sound of that voice so much closer.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed – you’re still hurt.”

A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and jerked away just as quick. Corin didn’t mind the touch – felt comforted by it. Grounded. He could feel the Mandalorian behind him, close enough that if he leaned back, he wouldn’t fall more than a second.

“I shouldn’t have –” the Mandalorian stopped himself from speaking, cleared his throat and tried again, “Corin, will you let me take you back to bed?”

And the fact that he was asking permission first – Corin didn’t know what to do with this. Since when did it matter what he wanted? He was _nothing_. Why go through the trouble of asking first when surely it would be easier to lift him off his feet, ignore the pain and carry him where he was supposed to be.

Overwhelmed by the choice, Corin could only nod. His mouth felt too full suddenly to provide a verbal response, and with panic clearing out of his system he was finally feeling the full brunt of his pain.

The

Mandalorian came forward immediately to help. He positioned himself beneath Corin’s free arm, and wrapped an arm around his back. He encouraged Corin to lean all his weight onto his shoulder. Everywhere they touched felt like fire beneath Corin’s skin – nothing like the usual feeling of cold regret. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Tell me if it hurts,” the Mandalorian said as they began to walk, “Tell me if you want me to let go.”

Again the freedom of choice was too much. Corin wanted to speak up, only to say he couldn’t decide. He wanted to let go of this new control, afraid he might do something wrong with it.

He held his tongue and let himself be carried along.

“This is going to hurt,” the Mandalorian warned was they neared the bed. Corin braced himself with grit teeth as he was lowered back down onto the too-soft mattress. For a moment he considered asking for something harder, but the thought fled his mind as quickly as it came. He would learn to live with what he was given.

The Mandalorian sat heavy on the edge of a chair, set up right at Corin’s bedside. It was among the sparse pieces of furniture Corin had failed to notice when he first woke, though he noticed the room was without a second bed.

“I wanted to be there when you woke.”

The admission caught Corin off guard, and he sank into the bed with little effort – barely noticed his muscles screaming as he shifted to lay flat.

He opened his mouth to apologise but no words could pass the weight of his tongue. Instead all he could do was stare up at the Mandalorian, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. He tried shifting into an easier position, but his body simply wouldn’t listen and the Mandalorian’s hands were back on him in a flash to push him back down.

“Try not to move too much; you’re still recovering.”

His hand lingered against Corin’s shoulder, warmth radiating against his covered skin it was a welcome feeling. Calming and safe, and gone too soon as the Mandalorian hastily drew back. He looked away, clearing his throat in lieu of an apology.

Corin was glad he didn’t say he was sorry.

He thought perhaps it was the pain. Maybe the lingering fear; the uncertainty of his situation. Some by-product of forgotten panic. Whatever it was had Corin opening his mouth to ask for more – he didn’t know what he would say or what request he would make; a simple touch to his cheek or against his hair, the grounding feeling of a hand in his own, or perhaps if he were bold enough he might request the Mandalorian share his bed, just for a sense of security.

It must have been good lucky that held his tongue. He didn’t get a chance to stumble the words out, before the Mandalorian was rising from his side, ready to leave again.

“Don’t go –”

And yet he managed to speak through the fear of being abandoned. If he could lift his arms with any kind of grace, Corin would use them to cover his face. It hurt to speak and Corin was only now realising how dry his throat was. His pained expression was mirrored by the Mandalorian; managing to look remorseful even through the helmet.

“I won’t be long.”

Corin didn’t argue – didn’t know how he would start to. With great effort he turned his head towards the window; staring out at the rain rather than watching the Mandalorian leave.

The rain was calming at first but Cirin realised quickly that the steady sound only severed to bring more memories forth. He might have felt a swell of pride – certainly a stroke of nausea – when recalling his efforts to fight back. His complete disregard for his own safety. His _stupidity._ Perhaps if these memories weren’t lumped together with the child’s fearful shrieks and tearful expressions.

He was probably scarred for life, because of Corin.

Then again, if the child had his won bounty, maybe he had seen worse. Maybe he had already seen the ugly side of the universe. And maybe this was all that was left for people like them.

The pounding of rain was broken by footsteps retuning. He could hear the Mandalorian’s voice outside his door, murmuring quiet assurances in an unfamiliar tongue. The door creaked as it was opened too slow – as though the person on the other side was afraid of what they might see. It left Corin wondering how awful he must look – ow awful he must have looked lying there for however long. Had he looked dead? Guards in his master’s employ had always commented on the horror of his appearance after a fresh beating. A new wave of shame overcame him at the thought of being seen this way – no wonder the Mandalorian was hesitant.

Corin tried to burrow himself beneath the covers. He tried to hide his face – thought briefly of faking sleep, but didn’t want to cause more worry than he was worth.

When the door finally opened, Cor could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. The child almost tripped over his feet hobbling into the room, letting out a delighted squeal when he saw Corin awake and well.

The Mandalorian followed shortly after, closing the door with his freer hand while the other balanced a wooden tray.

“he’s been worried about you,” the Mandalorian said, watching as the child struggled to pull himself onto the bed. Eventually he took pity, placing the tray on a small table to Corin’s side – the smell of vegetable broth wafting over from the small bowl it carried – and lifted the child to settle by Corin’s feet. “you saved his life.”

_Barely._

A bitter lump settled in Corin’s stomach and he averted his eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place.”

The child clambered over Corin’s legs, stumbling a few times and landing heavy against his body. The small impacts had Corin wincing, but he didn’t mind the pain.

“Ad’ika,” the Mandalorian’s tone was warning he never got to finish.

“He’s okay,” Corin insisted, he lifted a hand above the covers, stretching his fingers out to the child, “come here kid.”

The child smiled, flapping his arms wildly. He stumbled forward babbling words that meant nothing to Corin, but clearly had an affect on the Mandalorian. He stumbled over the chair, completely missing it when trying to sit, and sending it to the ground with a hollow _clank._

Corin looked up in concern – though felt mildly undisturbed with the child’s hand clasped tight in his. The Mandalorian raised hand in a familiar gesture; telling Corin he need not speak. The reluctance was clear in his refusal to meet Corin’s eyes, but he spoke anyway as he stopped to lift the fallen chair.

“It’s just… he thinks of you as family.”

And if Corin had had a hard time breathing before, it was nearly impossible now. The child collapsed against his chest, wrapping small arms around him as far as they could go, and Corin rested his hand against the child’s back. Numb.

“That’s –” he started speaking without knowing what he would say. He looked over at the Mandalorian for help, but only received a sympathetic look.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, gesturing towards the child, “I should’ve told you the kid’s being tracked as well.”

“Another bounty of yours?”

“He _was._ ”

Corn looked down at the child, now nestled snug under his arm, fast asleep. He looked back at the Mandalorian – couldn’t _imagine_ him hurting a single hair on the child’s head. Maybe that could mean –

“Hungry?”

“What?”

Corin looked suspiciously at the offered bowl.

“You’ll need to get your strength up. _Fast._ We’ve been here too long already.”

“Oh. O-okay.”

Corin cursed his voice for breaking. He cursed his throat and stomach for burning – and his hand for trembling as he reached out fore the bowl. The Mandalorian held it just out of his reach when it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold it up.

The Mandalorian learned forward and Corin swore he heard a hint of amusement in that voice when he said, “Let me help.”

* * *

It was hours later, once the sun had set behind layers of clouds. Corin managed to leave his bed once more for a steaming hot bath, and taking stock of his injuries he found no sign of the blaster shot to his stomach. The Mandalorian told him most of the remaining damage was internal, save for a few bumps and bruises, but assured him nonetheless that he would be fine.

The child sparsely left his side once they were reunited, and Corin felt his heart ache, seeing the ferocity with which he fought to stay in Corin’s arms at all times. He apologised over and over but he could barely hold his own weight; holding the child was out of the question.

They were curled up together in bed now, bathed and fed. Corin was beginning to grow tired again, but kept his eyes open. Determined to wait until the Mandalorian came back.

He’d left just over an hour ago in search of easy work. The RazorCrest wasn’t going to repair itself, but the Mandalorian confessed he had done little more than sit at Corin’s bedside for the past two days, waiting for him to recover. He had said this as though it meant nothing. As though the very thought didn’t leave Corin a guilty wreck. What a terrible inconvenience he had been.

At least he was awake now. One less thing to worry about. In the morning he could work on standing properly, and maybe even help with the ship.

Corin hadn’t bothered asking questions throughout the day. Didn’t ask about the planet they were on or the lovely room they were in. he didn’t dare ask if the Mandalorian had his own room to stay in with his own cosy bed, or if he intended to share. He was greedy for taking as much as he already had, and so Corin remained quiet.

For over an hour he listened to the sound of rain outside and wondered if it would ever stop.

He listened to the hum of breath that escaped the child’s tiny chest, and the murmur of strange voices beneath the floors.

Corin could hear the comings and goings of other patrons; the slamming of room doors and the thud of footsteps through empty halls. In some far corner of the building Corin swore he could hear music; the sound so familiar and yet the notes as far away as memories were in his mind. He began to drift off with the tune in the back of his throat; blinging to thoughts of snow-clad hills and roaring fires. Festivals of colour in the dead of winter nights.

Slamming doors and screams that rang out unheard into the stars far above.

The tail ends of a stolen childhood.

Corin jolted awake, uncertain if it was the start of nightmares that had woken him, or the sound of thunder rolling in. the lights had gone out – maybe a power cut due to the storm.

Outside, the howling wind nearly covered the rumble of footsteps heading upstairs. The pace was too urgent to be anyone else but his Mandalorian.

Within seconds the door was opened and forcefully shut. Corin’s heart sank when he heard the lock click into place.

“What’s wrong?”

The Mandalorian held up a hand to silence him. He leaned heavy against the door for a moment – as though he’d run all the way back to their room – before approaching the bed.

“I need you to tell me what you did.”

Corin’s brow furrowed. He squinted into the dark, confused.

“What are you talking about? Why _now?”_

The Mandalorian sat heavy in his seat,. He dug into his pocket and produced a familiar item. Corin’s bounty puck. It lit up beneath his touch.

What Corin wasn’t expecting was for a second puck tyo be placed beside the first. when activated this puck showed a different image – still Corin, and still with a price, but it had clearly come from a different source.

“I can’t protect you if you’re not honest with me Corin,” this time when his eyes met the visor, Corin felt as though he were being pierced, “I need you to tell me _everything.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to say again a huge thank you to all my readers you guys keep me going, this story is so hard to write but i keep getting ideas and so i keep pushing out content and your support means the world to me.
> 
> as always my tumblr is @softdramahoe  
> i don't often post about my fics, but that could change if you hit me up to ask about them :3


	12. Explain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! i've been gone for about two weeks. i was working on a time sensitive project for MerMay which is obviously now over. my work is currently on anon but i'm sure it won't be too hard to guess which one i wrote. search mermay in the Mandorin tag if you're interested in reading it otherwise feel free to roast me for being gone
> 
> REMINDER: lets be honest i dont edit for typos i never have i never will deal with it please.

_“Corin?”_

_He took a deep breath — exhaled a mouthful of steam into the clear night. Corin looked down at his hands, bundled in clumsily knit mittens. He looked up at the sky – heart practically leaping out of his chest — to see a familiar spread of stars._

_“Sweetheart, it’s time to come inside.”_

_A warm blanket was thrown over his shoulders; the feeling visceral – real. It almost brought a tear to his eye, and he swallowed to keep his mind moving forward. It was often like this. Often very vivid and raw. It simply hurt too much to stop remembering._

_“I –” his tongue faltered, throat closing around the words, “I’m watching the stars,” he said. He lifted a shaky hand towards the sky, pointing out a particular light that had caught his eye amongst the deep blue backdrop. “There’s a new one tonight. And look – it’s moving!”_

_The fear in her voice was always a sting in Corin’s memory. Was there something he could have done different?_

_She gripped his shoulders too tight and said, “that’s not a star, sweetheart. It’s a ship.” She tried so hard to keep her voice calm – to not frighten him. And it worked; Corin’s eyes never once left the sky, even when she pulled him to his feet. “Come along now, we really must be heading inside.”_

_“Wait! I’ve never seen a ship landing before!”_

_“Yes well, we don’t often get visitors here, that’s all.”_

_Still Corin tried to pull back, stubborn as always, he refused to be pulled from his perfect viewpoint. The ship was getting closer, now it was recognisable as a spacecraft at least. And if there had been panic in the valley that night, his mind may have blocked it out, but Corin can vaguely remember the frantic cries of mothers trying to herd their children inside – shrill voices inciting further panic._

_“Corin please,” this time her desperation seeped into her voice – fingers digging too tight into his skin. She maintained a smile, at the time it was enough to fool him. “There will be plenty of time to watch the stars tomorrow. I promise.”_

* * *

“I don’t know what happened to her.”

Corin felt the words in his mouth – felt the way his tongue moved to form them, and the slight rumble in his throat as they were spoken. He felt the pressure of being in his own body, and not just his head.

The Mandalorian was at his side, watching him with careful judgement. And beyond him – beyond his solid form, the physical reminder he was there; he was _real_ – Corin watched the room fall back into focus. The walls stark white to counter the dark of his memories. Light radiated from the two bounty pucks still activated on the bed – his own face giving him an accusatory glance.

Corin blinked away the nausea that settled in the back of his throat. He tried to focus solely on the moment he was in. The scratch of old sheets against his skin the smell of rain through the open window, the horrible ache of his body that followed every breath – the solid weight of the child settled against his hip.

“Corin?”

His name spoken with an open concern. Through the corner of his eye he could see the Mandalorian reach out for him – ever ready to provide comfort through touch – but he kept his distance.

Corin was ready to _feel_ it. Something real. A grounding grip on his body. A soft touch letting him know he was okay.

Instead he held his tongue – looked towards the open window, a storm of his own brimming at the corners of his eyes.

“I just,” he swallowed around a lump in his throat, “I need some water. Please?”

The Mandalorian hurried out of his seat, chair scraping back against the hardwood floors with the urgency of a man on the run.

“Take some deep breaths,” he instructed, familiar by now with Corin’s spiralling behaviour. “think of open spaces. I won’t be long.”

He hurried out of the room, tension clear in every movement he made. The door slammed just a little too loud behind him.

Think of open spaces.

Corin rolled the thought around in his mind.

Open spaces. Large, snowy fields? A forest clearing – a lake covered in ice perfect for skating.

The dark cellar of a desolate castle. Narrow stage of an auction house – lights too bright to see through, and adoring coos from an unseen crowd rolling off his skin like spit.

Dark rooms. Locked doors. Unyielding claims of ownership. A cage that had no physical bars. A reputation that would follow him forever.

Croin struggled to breathe through these thoughts. His throat was tight – eyes stinging with tears that refused to spill. He closed his eyes against the fear that was beginning to swallow him – arms screaming in protest as he lifted his hands to cover his face.

Open spaces. Open spaces.

He would be chased down in open spaces. It wasn’t safe to be outside. He had to be safe – she had given everything to protect him.

A far-off snore caught Corin’s attention. The sound of a child cooing – the movement of solid weight against his hip. He allowed his mind to wander towards the RazorCrest. Not an open space. _Safe._ With the child in his arms, curled up and warm. With the Mandalorian at his side.

_Safe._

A sense of distant relief filled Corin’s chest as he breathed clean around the fading panic.

Slowly he lowered his hands where they rested against his face – skin stinging from the pierce of bitten blunt nails. He rested one hand on the child’s head, scratching behind long ears.

A sense of belonging he struggled to swallow back.

Corin listened for the sound of heavy footsteps approaching his door. Once more the Mandalorian hesitated before pushing the door open. He peaked in cautiously before entering the room – perhaps checking to make sure Corin had calmed down.

It must be such a hassle having to deal with him in this state. Corin tried to burrow further into the bed – a wave of shame forcing him to hide – but his body screamed in protest. All he could do was lower his eyes to the ground, head bowed in shame.

He took the offered glass of water with a barely audible _thank you_ and swallowed it down in one go. He felt a tremble in his bottom lip when he lowered the empty class and turned his head resolutely away.

“Corin –”

Maybe an offer to stop. An expression of sympathy or guilt. An act of kindness he simply didn’t deserve.

Corin bit the inside of his cheek as he spoke,

“They think I killed him,” he said softly. He looked down at his own hands and in a voice so small it almost wasn’t real he said, “Sometimes I wonder if it might be true.”

“Corin –” his name spoken with unexpected shock, like this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. _“Who?”_

And Corin could only laugh.

“You know, I don’t think I ever knew his name,” he fell back against the pillows, eyes meeting the grainy white of the roof. “I gave three years of my life to that bastard and I never once heard his name, but he had everything of mine. I almost wish I _had_ done it.”

The Mandalorian was silent for a long moment – when Corin’s eyes wandered inevitably towards him, his hand was tipped upwards; visor aimed towards the ceiling in contemplation. The flowing reflection of Corin’s bounty pucks was caught eerily against the reflective surface.

“You didn’t kill anyone, then?” he asked carefully, Corin wondered I the back of his mind if that awful rat had died after he’d been stabbed. He wondered in further in his mind, if his hands were ever going to feel clean again. “So who did?”

And there was a level of doubt in those words – a bitter suspicion. No doubt he’d been taught by time and betrayal, not to take words at face value.

“I didn’t think about it,” Corin confessed, “I just ran.”

“From the scene of a crime.” He rose from his chair, the action causing a jolt of panic through Corin’s chest. “That’s why you were so desperate to get away from that desert planet.”

Corin opened his mouth to speak – unnerved as the Mandalorian began to pace – but he wasn’t given a chance.

“Was he an important man? The one who was killed.”

“I don’t know.”

The Mandalorian stopped. He turned to look Corin in eye.

“You said you worked for him – and you don’t know what he was worth?”

Corin bristled.

“I said I gave my life to him.”

He ignored the protests of his body, lifting his knees to his chest. The child made a sound of confusion as he was jostled awake, but settled back in quickly against Corin’s feet.

_“I never had a choice.”_

He could feel the Mandalorian’s stare piercing into him. A dozen questions dying before they could be properly formed. A dozen new reasons to count Corin out.

It would be the same no matter where he went. A level of judgement and distrust. He was so _tired_.

“Corin –”

A fresh question burned away into dead air. Maybe it wasn’t an answer he wanted this time, but just to pretend he cared. Corin wanted the same. To pretend for a blissful moment that he was cared for.

“We had a guest that night,” Corin said, skin crawling as his voice filled the room. He tried to zero in on the soft breaths of the child. A solid reminder that for now at least, he was safe. “He was always making offers. I didn’t take him seriously – a lot of guests liked to push their luck; it was part of the appeal. But if I had to guess I’d say it was him.”

Corin nodded along to his own words, and kept nodding after he’d fallen silent. The motion soothed him – gave him something to focus on.

“You think he framed you?”

Corin shrugged. He hadn’t thought about it much at all. Only now days later, things seemed that much clearer.

“Probably didn’t expect me to run.”

“And why did you? Innocent men _don’t run.”_

There was that tone again. Sharp. Accusatory. Like every word he said had a double meaning. Like he was incapable of telling the truth.

“Innocent.”

The word tasted bitter where it sat on his tongue. Innocence was the clean white of fresh fallen snow. The unsullied ice of mid-winter. A cold that seeped right down to your bones.

_Innocent men don’t run._

Exactly what part of his life had left Corin with a slate to wipe clean? Was the act of being born a criminal offence on it’s own?

“He must’ve thought I’d stay, Corin said, avoiding the statement all together. He wouldn’t claim to be something he wasn’t. “Maybe he thought he could keep me, once it was all over.”

He looked up atht Mandalorian – a fresh wave of bitterness giving him the strength to meet his owneyes. His stance was uncertain; standing at the foot of the bed, hands resting against the frame and body leaned forward. Braced for the impact of Corin’s truth.

 _“Keep you?_ Corin what –”

Corin shrugged.

“There are only so many times you can turn down a sale before a new client insists.”

And like that it began to fall into place. The entire room seemed frozen in time – only the patchy glow from the bounty pucks, and the shuddering rain showed any movement.

Corin held his breath so long his chest began to hurt. He wanted to stop breathing all together. Let him disappear with the memories of a few good days before things got worse.

The Mandalorian pushed away from the bed – movement stiff. Tension rolled ff his body with every breath – Corin could almost _see_ the gears turning inside his mind.

He had a few false starts;

“Corin –”

_“You –”_

And something that sounded like a curse.

Corin sat through it – waited patiently for the final bell to ring. He was ready for it.

He thought he was ready for anything.

“I was going to take you _back,”_ the Mandalorian’s voice was low; a groan of frustration. Not at all what Corin was expecting. “And you were going to _let me.”_

Again Corin shrugged.

“If it wasn’t you, it would be somebody else,” he said, “I’ve come to terms with it. I won’t take it personally.”

As it that would matter.

The Mandalorian gave him an incredulous look, managing to convey his emotion with no facial expression to speak of. His hands raised as if ready to speak again, but he let them fall to his side, exhausted, letting out a steam words Corin couldn’t understand.

 _“Slavers?”_ he all but hissed. He marched forward, and snatched the bounty pucks up off the bed. “You aren’t on trial for murder – you’re being poached by the systems wealthiest _monsters._ ”

The Mandalorian glared down at his hands – a puck held in either palm – and in his growing anger he hurled one against the closest wall. The sound it made as it shattered against painted brick, had Corin flinching – raising his arms to cover his head.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked out, eyes shut tight against the surfacing memories. He’d have scars if any of his owners had struck him with more than their bare hands. But that’s what most men seemed to prefer – the direct contact adding another layer to punishment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, the word tumbling out of his mouth over and over until he was just about choking on it.

He heard sounds in the back of his mind. More curses in a language he didn’t speak. Heavy steps pacing the hardwood floors. A resolute march in the opposite direction – the Mandalorian walking away from him.

_“Corin.”_

The sound of his name was so far. Off. He opened his eyes – the room now dark with no bounty puck to light it up. The Mandalorian was at the door, gloved hand closed around the handle.

“Don’t go.”

That hand fell away, helmet clad head falling to gaze down at the ground.

“You should have told me from the beginning.”

“I know – _I know_ ,” and despite the protests of his body, Corin was pushing the covers aside and scrambling out of bed. His legs shuddered and shook as he made his way across the room, voice cracking while he spoke, “I was afraid. Afraid exactly this would happen. I was being selfish, I’m sorry, I’ll _leave.”_

The Mandalorian watched every step he took, and practically leapt forward to catch Corin when his legs gave out. He wrapped his arms tight around Corin’s waist, holding him upright – body tensing for the barest second when Corin leaned his head against his armoured chest. Then, ever so slowly, he raised a gloved hand to the back of Corin’s head, weaving his fingers into the mess of dark hair.

“I could have protected you. If I’d known,” he said softly, letting out a deep breath that had his shoulders sagging.

“You don’t have to –”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Corin smiled; comforted by the familiar expression. His eyes were growing heavy – he’d been exhausted all day, and with emotions running as high as they had been, he found it difficult to stay awake.

“If I’d know you would get this angry –”

“It doesn’t happen often.”

Corin let himself laugh, whether it was in disbelief or just from exhaustion, he couldn’t properly tell. And the next words were spoken in a quiet hush, barely audible – a precious secret.

“Anger is only for things that are important – things worth caring about.”

There were plenty of things Corin wanted to say in response. Instead he allowed himself to be led towards the bed, legs still giving him too much trouble. The child was waiting for him there, curled up against the pillows now, sleepy eyes watching carefully as Corin was helped down.

“Lie down with me,” he said softly, regretting it almost immediately. The bed was too small. It would be too cramped. Surely the Mandalorian didn’t want to share with something like him.

Not with what he’d been through.

But then the Mandalorian was helping him to shift over, making space at the edge of the bed. Corin tried not to stare as he removed his armour, piece by careful piece. He’d never seen the Mandalorian without it – it seemed almost wrong – and he turned away quickly when he was caught looking.

“Tell me something nice,” he said, words seeming uncertain, “something easy to hear.”

“Easy to hear?”

The bed shifted as the Mandalorian sat down, bending to remove his boots.

“before you ended up here. Before your life became – _this.”_

Corin hummed. He thought of all the good things he’d has as a child, and how they meant nothing in the wake of what he had faced since. Something nice – maybe the best thing was the ability to have forgotten. What use were memories if they only caused pain.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said instead. Corin lifted the covers to wrap around his shoulders, wanting the warmth to block out the chill of his past. His eyes were slipping closed as he felt the Mandalorian shift to lie down, body stiff and straight right at the edge of the mattress. “This is better.”

“You’re tired,” the words a gentle sound. Corin was already fading into the black of dreams – the trill of her voice at the very back of his mind. “Get some rest. There’s plenty to deal with tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feel free to hit me up at @softdramahoe  
> im trying to write more on tumblr but its been a struggle lately cause i haven't been bothered.  
> you can always let me know what you'd like to see me write either in terms of this fic or other fics you'd like to see. i'm always looking for new ideas.


	13. Getting Stronger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this surprisingly didn't take too long to write. Every time i post a new chapter i feel the need to lament the time it took me to write, or to complain about how difficult writing is in general. this however really wasn't all that difficult and that bears saying as well.
> 
> I have a large writing project that i'll be working on in the coming weeks but if i'm lucky that won't get in the way of future updates c:
> 
> REMINDER: typos. i refuse to care about typos. there are a dozen reasons i will not be caring about typos at the moment. if you would like me to list these reasons that can be a project for another day.

Corin had always hated the process of recovery. He hated his body for working against him = for being weaker than he needed it to be.

As a slave he couldn’t take a break every time he’d gotten injured. He was expected to be on the floor grovelling for forgiveness after every brutal beating = and stars forbid he _bruised._ Broken bones or concussions had never been accepted excuses. Corin was expected to work and keep working until he died.

Every second spent in bed made Corin’s stomach swirl. He’d woken up warm and well rested – even _that_ had sent warning bells through his mind. The urge to get out of bed and do something _useful_ was uncontrollable. He was used to fighting with his body. Used to pushing himself further than he should. So it was easy to ignore the protests that seemed to start at every edge of his body – joints stiff and sore, back aching, head foggy and light, and lungs refusing to draw in a proper breath.

What wasn’t so easy to brush off, was the hand that reached out to grab his wrist, once Corin had managed to sit up.

His heart skipped a beat and Corin forced his eyes shut, repeating over and over that he was no longer a slave, no longer trapped in a desert fortress, no longer a bed warmer for rich old men.

“Don’t get up – it’s too early.”

The words were mumbled – the Mandalorian half asleep. His fingers slowly loosened and fell away from Corin’s wrist, letting him go.

Corin opened his eyes in one quick motion. He focussed his vision on the light of the open window – let his eyes wander to a familiar chip in the wooden pane. Each little details was a gentle reminder; a marker in his mind to know where he really was.

When he was brave enough Corin looked back at the bed. Despite himself he still expected to see the plush red of expensive linens, and the dull beige of stone walls – the dark wood of a headboard with claw marks and teeth imbeds in enough places to form a natural pattern.

Instead what Corin saw was the Mandalorian in a very rare moment of vulnerability. He was lying face down with his head turned at a slight angle. Corin wondered if he was used to sleeping with the helmet off – if this was something he’d done purely for Corin’s comfort. He’d taken his shirt off at some point; the bed having grown too warm as they shared, and Corin couldn’t help but _look_ , knowing he might never get another chance. He’d never seen the Mandalorian look so peaceful; shoulders rising and falling with every deep breath he took, body completely lax without the stress of consciousness his skin was littered with scars – some looking wore than others. Old and new, telling the stories of brutal fights and near death experiences.

A lifetime of adventure.

A lifetime of _trouble_.

Corin’s body protested again as he shifted on the bed. He leaned forward, fingers reaching out to _touch_ – mind fixated wondering what it would feel like; for once inviting the thought of warmth beneath his fingertips.

A slight shift had Corin pulling his hand back. He listened for a change in breathing – any sign that the Mandalorian was waking up. Long seconds stretched past with nothing.

He drew back, pulling his hand against his chest. Corin could feel a tingle against his fingertips and a swirl of guilt solidifying in his stomach. The Mandalorian had been so good to him. He refused to take advantage of that.

Corin stumbled out of bed with that thought on the tip of his tongue. His fingers flexed at his sides – a nervous energy burning through him that completely overwrote the pain. He was overcome by the urge to leave – just for a moment. He wanted to run and run until his energy burned out and the building panic left his body in frantic puffs of air.

He could barely take two steps without stumbling.

Another shift of movement caught his attention. A tiny head emerged from beneath the covers, turning from side to side until big depthless eyes landed on Corin.

The child reached out with both arms, hands making grabby motions and eyes scrunched up in concentration. He began to struggle to his feet – the give of the mattress too much to balance his small body – but was just as quickly stopped.

Corin could only watch and smile as the Mandalorian reached out with one long arm, pulling the child back to his side. He raised his head, breath evening out as he began to wake.

“Corin?” his voice was heavy with sleep. Corin wondered in the back of his mind, what the Mandalorian was thinking – was he alarmed by this situation? And how much did he remember?

A heavy sigh had his shoulders falling lax, days of exhaustion having taken their toll on his body. The Mandalorian was almost asleep again when he said, “come back to bed.”

And Corin hated the progress his body was making, the slow recovery, the aches and pains that plagued every step. But the sun was still rising outside – as ever concealed by a layer of thick clouds. The day was still young, and the warmth of a shared bed just too inviting.

Fingers clenching at his sides, Corin decided to leave guilty thoughts behind. Just once.

* * *

As the day wore on Corin became frustrated by his inability to do anything. Not only was his body refusing to co-operate, but any time he _did_ manage to lift himself from bed, the Mandalorian was at his side helping him hobble along.

 _“You’re still recovering,”_ he would say, and Corin wouldn’t mind because he liked the weight of strong hands on his body – maybe a little too much. _“Your body needs rest,”_ was just an excuse to get him back to bed, and, _“Be patient with yourself,”_ was something Corin just didn’t want to hear.

He’d managed to settle himself at the edge of the window – with the Mandalorian’s help – and spent a long morning staring down into the street. The people down there didn’t seem to realise it was raining.

Maybe this was all they knew.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, casting a thick haze around the surrounding area. The horizon was nothing but thick grey, and Corin began to feel boxed in as he continued to stare. He presed his hand against the glass – closed his eyes against the calming cold – but even _that_ felt like a cage as time wore on.

The entire room was just a cage – the nicest he’d been kept in sure; but it was still just that. He was still _trapped._

Corin tried to shake these thoughts off. He kept himself busy drawing snowflakes on the foggy class. He tried not to wonder where the Mandalorian had gone – taking the child with him. A dark part of his mind thought maybe he’d been left behind. That thought lead into others, Corin’s mind spiralling into a panic. What would he do if he were cornered here; the window was too small to climb through – _trapped_ – the ground too far away – if he fell it would likely kill him.

As casual a thought as any, Corin wondered if that would really be so bad. And as quick as the thought had come, he let it go in a panicked huff of air. Corin pushed himself from the window and to his feet. He stumbled several steps before the familiar ache kicked in, and when it did he almost screamed.

Corin was done being at the mercy of his own body. It couldn’t possibly be this hard to take a few simple steps. It had to be in his _head_ – some useless trauma clinging to the back of his mind, holding him back.

With clenched teeth Corin took the next step. He kept his head held high; eyes locked resolutely to the wall in front of him. Each step forward burned through his leg, right up to pierce through his lungs. Each step had Corin ready to give up and climb back into bed – let time rot him away; if he wasn’t getting better he could only be getting worse.

Each and every step against hardwood floors was a fresh memory – the sting of cold stone against his feet, the pitying glances of other prized possessions taking stock of his injuries, or the smug comments from guests who thought they could teach him better.

Corin held his head high as he walked – marching resolutely towards the stark white just ahead, and leaving the drum beat of memories beneath his feet. His body would not win this fight. Corin bit his cheek and breathed ragged around the final steps.

He had to be stronger now than he had ever been.

For once in his life he had to be strong.

Corin breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the wall. He fell against the stone and it was like a fog lifting. His body still ached – nothing had _changed_ – but Corin knew beyond any doubt, that he would survive.

* * *

Corin lay flat on the hardwood floor, muscles aching all throughout his body, and breath coming out in steady huffs. Having grown tired of the four walls that surrounded him, Corin had thrown himself into recovery by force – pushing his body to accept the pain of a thorough workout to override his old injuries.

Maybe it was working.

Maybe the air oin the room was too hot – made stuffy by shallow breaths and almost no ventilation.

Corin lay back, stretching his arms high above his head. The stretch burned through every part of his body and Corin let himself feel it as he pushed further, arching his back off the ground

He listened to the sound of rain beating just beyond the window – wanted to step outside for just a moment; just to feel the chill against his skin. He wanted to stand out in the unsheltered street and let the rain soak right into his skin until he was shaking with it.

Until it felt like home.

“Corin?”

He froze in place – feet planted firmly against the ground, back arched, arms stretched high above his head. Corin could feel his cheeks heat up, though was uncertain whether it was embarrassment or just the heat.

As he moved to sit up, Corin noticed with a familiar sense of dread, that the Mandalorian was looking away. He made a point of not looking – head turning in Corin’s direction every now and then only to turn back towards the opposite wall.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” he said finally, words lacking their usual strength, as though spoken through clenched teeth.

“I’m done resting.”

Corin began to struggle to his feet. He gripped the bed post tight in one hand, leaning his weight against it when his legs refused to carry him. This time the Mandalorian did look at hom, coming forward with a familiar intent to help.

“I’m fine,” Corin insisted. He let go of the bedpost before he was ready, just to prove that he could. “I’m going outside.”

 _“Corin –”_ his name the start of a warning or a cut-off plan to reconsider. He really didn’t mean to snap when he said –

“I just need to _breathe.”_ He looked up at the Mandalorian, hoping he would be heard. The fresh tension in his stance showed a level of understanding previously absent. “You can come with me, if you’re so worried I’ll hurt myself. I don’t want to be the reason our travels are delayed even further.”

The last part was spoken with an edge of bitterness Corin wasn’t expecting. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead walking right past the Mandalorian and into the featureless hallway. He’d gotten better at taking large steps and balancing his weight on either foot as he walked. The slow crawl of recovery barely noticeable in his gait. Still when Corin reached the stairs he hesitated – gripped the railing tight in both hands and held himself taut with a full breath of air puffing up his lungs.

The first step was pure agony.

Corin couldn’t help the noise that escape between clenched teeth – couldn’t stop the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes. Whether it was the pain, or the frustration of having made no progress in a day, he simply couldn’t decide.

Looking down at the rest of the flight, Corin steeled his nerves. He had a long way to go.

He had to be strong.

“Let me help you.”

Corin almost jumped – might have, if it didn’t hurt so much just to lift his feet. He didn’t realise he’d been followed and shied away from the Mandalorian’s touch.

“I don’t need a chaperone just to get down some stairs.”

His face scrunched up in pain, hand clutching the rail so tight his knuckles grew white. He took another deep breath before considering his next step.

_“Corin –”_

He turned to tell the Mandalorian _no_ – determined to do this on his own – but when he turned to speak, the Mandalorian was startlingly close. Corin’s breath caught in his throat and he stared deep into the visor, hoping to see something other than the reflection of his own blue eyes.

“Fine,” his voice came out a whisper, voice of any conviction. Corin’s eyes drifted to the Mandalorian’s strong hands, already braced to catch him should his body simply give up. The thought of faking illness crossed his mind in a moment of guilt – a poor excuse to feel the warmth of another body against his own, and to feel okay with it. To _want_ it. “You can help – if it’ll make you feel better.”

* * *

“Should we still be here – on this planet?”

Corin sat down heavy at their table, a bowl of soup set in front of the child with a light smile.

He was soaking wet from the bottom of his bare feet, to the top of his head, having stayed out in the rain for several long minutes while the Mandalorian watched on. He’d wanted to stay out longer – had a fleeting thought of drowning in the violent downpour – but the Mandalorian had been reluctant to let him out in the first place; concerned for his health of all things, and so Corin decided not to push his luck.

They’d taken refuge in a small eatery not too far from where they’d been staying, finding a table tucked away in the back. The place was nearly empty, though the few people scattered throughout the place turned to stare at the sight of a Mandalorian – Corin supposed it was something he was used to, as he didn’t react at all.

The child had had a good time splashing around in puddles on the uneven ground. Corin’s heart had melted to see him smiling and squealing in the rain, a well-deserved break from the recent stress. A taste of the freedom Corin had been foolish to crave.

“We can’t leave yet,” the Mandalorian spoke quietly, as though his words held a hidden meaning, “I haven’t been back to the ship. I don’t know if it’ll fly.”

“Well considering we were shot out of the sky –”

“We weren’t hit. We _crashed._ ”

Corin smiled at the defensive tone – felt his lips curl up in a genuine display of _affection,_ and that upset him as much as anything else had recently. With a hand cupping his cheek he asked, “Why didn’t you go back?”

The Mandalorian turned his head away slightly; the action coming through as embarrassment.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, and even quieter, _“So I waited.”_

“Oh.”

Corin’s smile fell just as quickly as it had come. Of course it was his fault. If not for him the damage to the RazorCrest would be repaired by now and they’d be back in the sky. If he’d been a little more careful, or if he’d stopped at any point to think things through –

“I was worried about you.”

The Mandalorian’s confession stole Corin from his thoughts. He was further grounded by a squeal from the child, manically banging his utensils against the table. He offered a cheerful smile towards Corin, stretching out with one grabby hand that was taken with no hesitation. The child gurgled happily, squeezing Corin’s finger absently in his tiny grasp, before pulling back to focus on his food.

“Well I’m okay now,” Corin said carefully, as he turned away from the child. Drew on every ounce of learned strength to maintain eye contact, but let it fall away. There was no need to pretend, with the Mandalorian. No need to put on a show. We should check it out – I mean, the longer we stay in one place, the more likely we are to get caught.”

“That won’t happen.”

His words were final. A promise.

Corin could only roll the words around in his head, looking down at his hands where they rested against the table. He had spent all day struggling to depend on himself. Struggling to find strength where it arguably didn’t exist. It wasn’t hard to accept he had merely been looking in the wrong places.

This time when Corin looked up it wasn’t just for show. He offered a smile – as genuine as the last – laying his arm out across the table; fingers stretched out but not quite _touching._ This was fine. This was okay. A slight shift had the Mandalorian closing the gap, gloved fingers solid and warm against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't really know what to say about this one. There was a lot of stuff i wanted to write that i didn't end up including. This chapter, as many before it have, took an unexpected turn. I'd intended to include several inciting incidents and finish off with a sneaky little cliffhanger, and instead we have this piece you've just read that shows the more subtle changes and developments in perception of strength.
> 
> As always feel free to leave a comment i read every single one of them multiple times for days and days after a chapter is posted and also whenever i'm feeling down or when stuck on a particularly tough piece of writing 
> 
> if commenting isn't your gig i am also on tumblr @softdramahoe  
> otherwise positive vibes are also always much appreciated


	14. Clean Slate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so i've been gone for a little while! sorry (it's called depression, look it up, and also take care of yourselves cause shits hard.)  
> So with the release of this new chapter i am hoping to get into the swing of writing again, but i'm not sure how well that is going to go.  
> Basically i've been having a really difficult time lately, but i won't bore you with that, if you think you can handle my staggering emotional issues, i do have a tumblr which as always, is down below.
> 
> REMINDER: typos exist. i will not be back to fix them. you can point them out if you really feel you must, although usually nobody does and i appreciate that. with that said, happy reading!

Time past by quickly in the shabby little eatery. Corin wondered if it was the planet – thought maybe it spun a little faster than he was used to. Certainly, the days had dragged on and on in the desert – long hours spent in the scorching sun. and nights had lasted almost twenty hours in the dead of winter where he’d come from – Corin could remember vividly the deep blues and solid purples that had filled the skies; and the vibrant spread of starts that graced that time of year.

Here in the eatery, Corin could see the light fading from a gentle grey into a harsh black. The windows were small and high up – and mostly obscured by rain – but he could see well enough to watch the day as it faded away.

They can’t have been sitting there very long. It felt simultaneously like a few minutes, and a few _hours_ since they’d last spoken. Their hands were still rested on the tabletop. Joined. The Mandalorian’s thumb brushed periodically over Corin’s knuckles as he spoke to the child – held a conversation in a language Corin couldn’t keep up with. The touch was gentle – absent-minded. Nothing like what Corin had come to expect.

He thought it was going to hurt – was ready for it even. Of all the times Corin had wanted to reach out and _touch_ – all the times he had imagined it, guiltily in the back of his own mind – he had imagined it like a physical pain; pumping from his fingers straight to his heart.

Corin’s eyes strayed from the darkened windows. They settled for a brief moment to his own hand – _small_ in comparison. And when had _wanting something_ ever worked out for him?

He looked away to where the child sat; satisfied after a warm meal. He seemed to listen as he was spoken to, but only answered in gurgles and soft coos.

“We should go back,” Corin said, voice much louder than he’d expected. His words seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them; the Mandalorian’s head turning sharp to look at him.

What did he mean? Back to their room – back out into the rain?

“I mean, back to the ship.”

Corin’s heart stuttered when the Mandalorian visibly tensed – calming hold on Corin’s fingers frozen. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to draw both hands against his chest, and wrap his arms tight around his stomach – swallow down whatever senseless hope had him relaxing in his seat.

The Mandalorian looked away, head turned just slightly. His fingers gave a gentle squeeze to Corin’s hand, easing the rabbit fast pounding of his heart.

“It’s been a long day,” he said carefully.

Corin bit his tongue to keep from pointing out they’d done nothing but _rest._

“We can’t stay on this planet forever,” and before the Mandalorian could argue or even _think_ of making excuses; “They’ll come for me eventually and the kid too.”

The child cooed in response, reaching a hand towards Corin, and earning a smile in return.

“You’re right.” The Mandalorian heaved a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping with the effort. His thumb dragged slow across Corin’s knuckles – the sensation sending a spike of nerves through his stomach. “It’s already dark – and you’re still recovering.”

“I’m _fine_ –”

_“Corin.”_

His expression softened. Corin was overcome by a new urge to touch, if only to feel the warmth of the Mandalorian’s body beneath his fingers. The thought sent a wave of guilt through him; warming his cheeks and stinging at the back of his eyes. Corin clenched his free hand against his thigh; blunt nails digging into covered flesh.

“Tomorrow then,” he said, thinking he might not mind going to bed this early.

And the Mandalorian conceded.

_“Tomorrow.”_

* * *

The next day Corin found himself wondering how it could possibly rain all year. Surely the streets would be flooded – and whatever mass of water kept the towns running would swell and overflow. He wondered how the people dealt with never seeing the stars. Did they have a moon that went unseen? He could never grow used to it himself – already missing the glow of the night sky.

Another night of rest had done wonders for Corin’s body. He stilled ached getting up out of bed, but was able to do it without needing help. The Mandalorian still hovered at his side but let Corin carry himself – even when the stairs caused him to stumble and pause.

He was given a new jacket before they left – an item no doubt procured from the grouchy innkeeper, who had ironically barked at them the night before, for tracking in rain. The Mandalorian held it out to him, head turned away just slightly.

“It’s a long walk. You might get sick.”

Corin smiled; small and uncertain. He thought of telling the Mandalorian of his time diving into icy lakes for rock crabs. Still, his stomach fluttered at the kind gesture.

“Could you help me put it on?” he asked softly.

And certainly, Corin knew how to put on a jacket. It wasn’t any more complicated than a shirt – and he’d spent years wriggling into laughably elaborate outfits in the past. But that meant nothing to him now; not with the Mandalorian’s hands helping him to shrug the jacket on – resting heavy against his shoulders and lingering a long time against his covered chest once he was all buttoned in.

The warm weight of his hands had Corin’s heart pounding – and surely the Mandalorian could feel it against his palm he wanted to feel it without the jacket – without the shirt, and without the Mandalorian’s gloves. He wanted more than just hands against his skin – the thought was new and terrifying, and he pushed it away before it could really hurt.

“Is it too much?” the Mandalorian asked. One hand left Corin’s chest and came to hover close to his cheek, where the skin was warm with shame.

“No. _no!_ it’s perfect,” Corin lowered his gaze, every muscle in his body tensing from an unnamed fear. He wanted to run away. He wanted to lean forward into the Mandalorian’s touch. He couldn’t do either. _“Thank you.”_

The Mandalorian cleared his throat, pulling his hands away all at once. He turned away completely – the action sending a breath of relief through Corin’s lungs.

“Right. Let’s get you some shoes.”

* * *

Corin’s body hurt with each step he took through the small city. His legs trembled with the effort of holding himself up, while his chest struggled to hold a single gasp of air. His muscles absolutely ached from pushing himself too far the day before, but despite that he kept pushing.

The Mandalorian kept a leisurely pace; allowing the child to toddle ahead as they left city boundaries toward a stretch of thick forest. The rain wasn’t quite so heavy in these parts, though Cori still appreciated the gentle downpour. He had started the journey with his head turned up toward the sky; hood drawn but still catching most of the raindrops against his face the absolute force of the inner-city storm had a smile plastered on his face; even when the Mandalorian hurried him along. Now he was able to simply enjoy the cold – enjoy the way it soaked into his fingertips and through the ends of his hair. His face stung from the whipping wind, and Corin wads certain he could feel the chill right down to his bones.

The child seemed to enjoy himself more than he had in a while. He’d gone out of his way to splash in puddles along the asphalt while he’d had the chance; squealing in delight each and every time. Now in the thickening forest he wobbled ahead; climbing over thick roots and sloshing about in wet dirty. A few times he paused to watch a trail of insects along a tree trunk, or listen to the sound of bird chirping in the canopy above their heads.

He fell behind occasionally – once pausing completely to devour a tree lizard – but the Mandalorian always waited patiently for him to lose interest. The breaks were a quick relief from the growing agony of movement. Corin’s chest was tight and his joints ached like unoiled hinges he couldn’t say how long they’ve been walking but it was certainly longer than he’d expected.

“I didn’t realise the ship was so far out,: he hugged. The had stopped once more for the child to admire an amber coloured worm that seemed to glow against the blue moss.

Corin was rested against a damp tree trunk, head tilted back as he tried to breathe slowly.

“I tried to tell you,” The Mandalorian was further ahead. He’d been vigilant about checking their surroundings since leaving the relative safety of the city; ensuring that the child’s curiosity wouldn’t get him into any trouble. he turned back towards where Corin stood now, walking back to check he was able to continue. “We can rest here for a while longer – might be good for the kid to take a break.”

Corin was touched by the effort of the lie. He wanted to say yes, but something else was weighing on his mind.

“You carried me all this way?”

He hadn’t quite meant to ask, and once the words left his mouth Corin was struggle by a new wave of shame. He must sound ungrateful. The Mandalorian had gone out of his way to save his life, and Corin was questing that?

“Of course,” the Mandalorian said, again it was maddening that he refused to look in Corin’s direction – refused to acknowledge his existence while they spoke. “What else would I have done?

_Left me to die?_

The child spoke up with a dismayed chirp. His amber worm had made a cunning escape, and it was time to carry on walking.

Corin waited until the child passed him by – walking at a snails pace on tiny legs -before pushing off of the tree. The action set a sharp pain through his shoulders but Corin tried to walk it off. He only managed tow steps before his knees were buckling – sending his body crashing into the soft earth.

“Corin!”

The Mandalorian was at his side in an instant; strong hands hovering just off his body before a sharp permissive nod had him reaching out to _touch._

“I’m fine,” Corin insisted firmly, willing the words to take root in his disobedient body. He had been through _worse_ , and had always found a way to stand tall for duty the next day.

“Why _now?_ Why was his body refusing to listen now?

Corin leaned heavy against the Mandalorian as he struggled back to his feet. His legs shook – knees threatening to give way again. The frustration had tears stinging behind his eyes. He broke away from the Mandalorian’s hold, stumbling over to the nearest tree, and considered his options.

He couldn’t go back now.

A short rest to catch his breath might ease the pain just enough.

“The clearing isn’t too far from here.”

Corin rolled his eyes, a fresh bitterness overcoming him. Of course he had _almost_ made it. What good was almost?

“I didn’t expect you to make it this far – I’m not sure if I should be surprised or concerned.”

Corin scowled, now all too aware of the arm he had wrapped around his side, where most of the pain boiled beneath his skin. His breathing was laboured – feeling almost as if his lungs were filled with glass.

“Why did you agree if you knew I’d fail?” he asked – voice quiet, almost drowned out by the forests natural symphony.

 _“Corin,”_ his name spoken as though _tired_ – in the back of his mind; in some disconnected part of himself, Corin realised this was _concern._ “I don’t expect you to do everything by yourself.”

And Corin thought he could see the gears turning in the Mandalorian’s mind where once he had no frame of reference to explain Corin’s behaviour, he now had a new plethora of knowledge and no doubt several nasty assumptions to go along with it. He would realise Corin wasn’t doing this to be difficult.

Corin’s heart ached with hope, that the Mandalorian might understand.

 _“Corin –”_ the tone was apologetic. He couldn’t stand it.

Corin pushed off the gamp tree he’d been using for support. He stumbled forward on shaking legs and struggled to maintain eye contact with his reflection in the Mandalorian’s helmet.

“Help me then,” he said softly. Only once the words had left his mouth did Corin allow himself to look away. “you said we’re not far off. I can keep walking if you help me.”

The Mandalorian moved forward. “That will take too long,” he said, and Corin watched with a rabbit-fast heartbeat pounding painful against his ribcage, as the Mandalorian knelt down against the wet ground, “if you keep putting so much stress on your body, you’ll never recover. Let me help.”

* * *

The RzorCrest stood in ruins. Unflyable, but certainly salvageable. It had been left open, the cargo door damaged in the raid, and rain water causing further damage to the immediate interior.

A quick look determined no serious damage to the exterior; no punctures of leaks. If they could fix the engine and seal the door, they’d be able to fly the ship somewhere with a capable mechanic to fix the rest. Although this plan hinged solely on the Mandalorian’s ability to find work off planet, that didn’t involve turning Corin in.

The other ships were in near perfect condition; neither bounty hunter having taken a hit during their chase. It was likely they would have to salvage parts from the two ships in order to escape. It seemed a daunting task, but Corin was happy to at least have a plan.

He sat at the top of the ramp still only partially extended. Only a few days ago he’d been thrown off the ship by the roots of his hair – and when he thought about it, his scalp still ached just a little.

The child clung close to him, holding Corin’s hand and refusing to go further into the ship when prompted by the Mandalorian. Whether this was out of fear from his memories, or a protective instinct for Corin, remained unknown. Either way Corin scooped the child up into his lap, nuzzling against the top of his head and whispering gentle assurances.

“It’s good to be back home, isn’t it?” he asked softly, bouncing the child against his knee. He received a quiet coo in response – almost sad. “Nothing is going to hurt you. I won’t let that happen.”

“You did a good job.”

The Mandalorian’s voice startled both Corin and the child. Corin’s head turned sharp into the ship, where the Mandalorian had just come down from the cockpit.

“I never properly thanked you – you protected him when I couldn’t.”

There were several things unspoken between the words; a sense of prideful guilt behind genuine gratitude. The words _you didn’t have to do that_ , stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“He protected me as well, Corin said absently. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but he remembered near the end of it – when he thought he might die, and he might be okay with that – the one holding him back had started to choke, Corin didn’t know how, but he knew it was because of the child.

“He saved me too,” the Mandalorian said offhandedly, as he made his way to where Corin was seated. When he reached the edge of the platform, he sat down heavy beside Corin, a gentle hand reaching out to stroke the child’s ears. “In more ways than one.”

The ensuing silence was filled with soft coos from the child as he began to drift off, content in the warmth of Corin’s arms and in the safety of the Mandalorian’s touch. Lulled by the gentle breaths the child took, Corin hesitated only a second before leaning his head against the Mandalorian’s shoulder. He felt the Mandalorian’s body tense briefly beneath him, before replacing completely.

“Did you find anything useful?” he asked, eyes growing heavier by the second.

The Mandalorian made a contemplative noise; one which reached deep within his chest. It was a sound of hesitance, as though he still hadn’t decided what his answer should be.

Of all things, Corin least expected to be shown a frayed strip of fabric – the colour a gaudy desert purple, and an all too familiar insignia stitched delicately into the material. His heart skipped a beat; anxiety spiking right through his body, causing his throat to dry completely.

“I didn’t realise id’ lost it,” he said softly, _almost_ reaching out for the physical reminder of his past. But looking at it now, Corin felt detached; like he was being shown a piece of someone else’s life.

“So it _is_ important then?”

The way the Mandalorian asked wasn’t accusatory in the slightest. It was pure curiosity without the push. A true desire to listen and to hear what Corin had to say – whatever he was comfortable with saying.

“For a long time, yes,” he said, voice barely louder than a breath. His fingers reached out, brushing over the fragile stitching. “For a long time, this was my everything.”

A brand that didn’t scar. A mark of ownership in no uncertain terms.

“And now?”

Corin looked up. This close, he could read the uncertainty in his own blue eyes – the fear of something new, and the distaste for the old. He resented that the choice was given only to him – absolutely _hated_ having to make up his own mind no matter what, there was always a concern that what he chose would be wrong.

“Corin –?”

He took a sharp breath in, and leaned forward against to rest his head against the Mandalorian’s shoulder- heart absolutely swelling as the Mandalorian shifted to wrap an arm strong around him.

“Burn it. I’m not that person anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again i want to thank everyone for the tremendous support in my endless time of need, and thank you all for continuing to follow and read this fic it makes my heart warm even in the dead of winter.
> 
> for my tumblr see here; @softdramahoe
> 
> otherwise, if you send good vibes i will surely receive them


	15. Cleansing Rain (The Beach Episode)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henlo i am somewhat back on my bullshit  
> full disclosure this chapter went completely off the rails i am considering this a part of my internal healing as a writer  
> if you read this chapter prepare for more bullshit - you have been warned
> 
> REMINDER - typos. that is all.
> 
> FOR ALL THOSE WONDERING; I AM IN FACT, FALLING APART

Corin couldn’t remember when, but he had heard once that rain was a symbol of new beginnings. A fresh start – a clean slate, free of any darkness or past wrong doings. As he sat at the edge of the RazorCrest – legs dangling just slightly over the broken ramp. Where cold raindrops battered his covered skin – Corin thought maybe it was the cooks in his old desert home who’d told him so.

_“One day a big flood will come and wipe this scum off the planet’s surface.”_

He remembered fondly, snippets of conversation in thick accents, while he awaited his master’s morning meal. Long minutes perched on cold kitchen floors before the sun had even risen – tired guards blind and uncaring of the hatred that surrounded them.

_“The rain will sweep you up with it – the world will be better without filth like you –”_

The chefs looked at Corin with unbridled disgust. The looked at the clothes he wore – the angry bruises on his skin, and tan lines from sparse outfits in the desert sun. they knew what he was and treated him with disdain.

Yes, it was the chefs of his old desert prison who had told Corin one day a gentle rain could cleanse the world – and that in his wickedness Corin wouldn’t survive.

He leaned back, head tilted toward the open grey sky. The chilling bite of rain was refreshing against his face.

Corin was almost tempted to gloat; he’d made it out. Against all odds, he’d made it.

It had been a long day, spent mostly denying their combined lack of mechanical skill, and the possibility they might not make it off this planet before another ambitious bounty hunter managed to track them down. That thought had grown scarier, all things considered, but the Mandalorian was quick to insist he had things under control.

He had left Corin with the RazorCrest while checking to get a proper look at the other ships. If it really came down to it, either would be good for a quick get away – but the Mandalorian was reluctant to leave the Crest behind.

“It will take days just to figure out what needs fixing.”

He settled in beside Corin; wet from the rain. The child was asleep between them; exhausted from a day of playing in the rain.

“Be quicker if we had help,” Corin agreed.

“This planet is a wasteland – impossible to find quick work.”

Corin nodded along. There seemed to be only one quick way to earn credits here. His mind blinked back to days earlier; the condescending sneer of his would-be captor. The beaming glow of a bounty puck with his name on it.

An awful thought filled Corin’s mind – a familiar guilt bubbling low in his stomach as a plan began to take shake.

He let out a deep breath; resting his head against the Mandalorian’s armoured shoulder.

“Something will come up.”

* * *

The night was long and cold, spent huddled in the back of the RazorCrest. The child had been the loudest to refuse, but Corin found he didn’t quite feel comfortable re-entering the cockpit. Not with his memories still so vivid behind closed eyes.

It was something he couldn’t tell the Mandalorian – _I thought you were dead_ – and yet if he could find the words, Corin knew he would be understood.

And so the three of them huddled together as far from the broken entrance as possible. The child burrowed in against Corin’s warm chest and return Corin closed his new jacket just enough so the child’s eyes and ears surfaced.

The Mandalorian had hesitated for a moment – a silent request for permission hanging in the air between them. Corin broke it off; practically diving into his arms where he sat just beneath the child’s compartment.

“This is hardly the worst night I’ve had,” Corin said; quiet enough he could deny ever speaking.

 _“Corin,”_ and his name was spoken with such pity, it made his chest tighten.

The gloved fingers against his waist felt white hot compared to the chill, and Corin leaned into the touch. There was still so much unspoken – the weight of it all seeming to burn right through every covered inch of Corin’s skin, and a startling part of him wanted to do away with the secrecy. Corin was almost overcome by the urge to throw aside yet another layer of fear – the years of disgust and disdain thrown his way; pitying words whispered by people who had never been a prize and would never be a piece of property in someone’s hands. He wanted to lay it all bare. Get it out of the way now and accept whatever that reality would mean.

It was a lot to swallow down – Corin almost choked on some of the stronger words.

He looked up at the Mandalorian; eyes meeting his own reflection in the visor.

“My home planet,” he said softly, side-stepping the truth behind his words. There was no need for truth. No need to think things would go any further than they had. The Mandalorian had given him much more already; much more than he deserved. “I don’t remember a lot about it; but it was always cold. Worse than this.”

He watched for the subtle reactions; the shift of a hidden expression, the tilt of a covered head, and a soft squeeze against his side meant to comfort. Meant to acknowledge Corin’s trust, and apologise for jumping to conclusions.

The sweetness of it all made Corin’s heart ache.

“I’ve aways preferred –” the Mandalorian paused, as though he hadn’t meant to speak at all. But the damage was done and Corin could see his own eyes light up in curiosity. The Mandalorian cleared his throat to continue speaking; though he turned his head away to muffle his voice. “I grew up in the sun,” he said, “When I was a child. Before –”

Another pause. Corin shifted, heart skipping a beat as he wound his fingers tight with the Mandalorian’s.

“It’s okay,” he said softly.

Corin shifted forward on his knees – careful to support the child beneath his jacket. He paused when he was in front of the Mandalorian – noticed the sunken shoulders and long breaths that spoke all too well of a deep untapped sadness.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, leaning in ever so slightly. Their joined hands came to rest against cold beskar, and the Mandalorian leaned in on his own to press his helmet against Corin’s forehead.

Neither acknowledged that this was the most the Mandalorian had spoken about himself for as long as they’d been travelling together – though the possibility of hearing more had Corin’s heart yearning. He closed his eyes and wondered if the Mandalorian knew what it was like to open up to someone – and maybe in that way they weren’t so different.

* * *

Morning light had only just begun to creep it’s way into the RazorCrest, but Corin was already wide awake. Early starts had been all but burned into him – an ingrained need to rise alongside the sun.

His mind had been racing even before he’d opened his eyes; a mixture of fear for the family he had found, and apprehension caused by bad ideas. He was practically shaking by the time the child began to stir.

He had found in the days spent on this rainy planet, that the Mandalorian was never more than a few moments from waking once the child had started. Whether this was an ingrained instinct, or a learned habit from travelling so long alone, Corin didn’t know. Regardless he found a similar warmth in watching both father and son rouse into wakefulness.

“Corin?”

“I’m here.”

He couldn’t rthink what else to say – the sound of his name spoken in such a sleep addled tone simply stole his sense. A simple reassurance of his presence had always worked in the past, and it seemed to do the trick now; as the Mandalorian’s arm tightened around him just slightly before pulling away to stretch.

They’d spent the night tangled up together; the child nestled safe and warm between them. Corin had found himself quickly wanting more and more – wanting to force his way through physical barriers just to prove that he could. Just to prove he was capable.

Sleep had found him surprisingly easy despite doubtful thoughts. He felt more at easer than ever in the Mandalorian’s embrace.

“How are you feeling?” the Mandalorian asked, and Corin’s first thought was that he must look a mess.

_“Warm.”_

He meant it in the physical sense – anything above freezing counted as warm against his winter hardened skin. But when the Mandalorian tilted his head and lifted a gloved hand to sweep the hair out of Corin’s face, he felt it in a different sense.

He wondered idly if the Mandalorian could hear the thump of his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage. Surely it was louder now than the gentle patter of rain against the ship. But then maybe not – his attention shifted just as quick to the opening of the ship; where the weak glow of morning was filtering in.

“What’s the plan?” Corin asked, beginning to rise from where he’d been comfortably perched. He stretched his arms high above his head – a sharp exhale leaning his chest as the child’s head wriggled free of his jacket.

We head back to the city – try our luck with the locals. A planet like this won’t get much air traffic; I doubt many of them have seen the inside of a ship before.”

“And what about credits?” Corin pressed.

“We have none – well, not enough to cover repairs anyway,” despite this, the Mandalorian didn’t appear worried, “If we’re lucky we’ll find a mechanic willing to take payment in spare parts – we’ve got two ships worth, and I’ve made worse deals than that.”

Corin nodded along, stomach clenching at the mention of luck. She hadn’t been kind to him since he was young – he thought perhaps he should start looking for a backup plan.

* * *

Corin hadn’t searched for the bodies he’d left behind – more than just afraid to face another corpse. He wondered if the Mandalorian had had time to dispose of them before fleeing the scene, or if they’d fallen further from the ship than he remembered.

Either way, Corin spent long moments searching the area immediately surrounding the ship. He looked closely at the muddied ground; searching for something important lost during the scuffle.

The weather had erased any trace of a struggle – removing even proof that they had journeyed there just a day ago. And the memories were painfully fuzzy in Corin’s mind. He had fought hard to keep it that way – stomach still unsettled by the knowledge of whatr he had done.

If Corin thought about it too hard he could feel the warmth of blood on his fingers. Just the lightest touch of wind against his skin was enough to have him jumping; and so he kept his eyes locked to the ground.

He had only a few moments left before their journey back, and Corin was beginning to think it had been a stupid plan to begin with. The Mandalorian wouldn’t go along with it. He would be _angry_ – and just the thought had Corin’s entire body tensed to run. He couldn’t do angry.

It was just as Corin had decided to give up on his terrible, thoughtless plan, when the edge of his shoe struck something that wasn’t grass.

Corin’s stomach sank and his head shot up to stare into the sky; body completely rigid with fear. A few careful prods told him enough that when he looked down; Corin was certain he wouldn’t be met with the sight of a dead body.

Sure enough, only partially obscured by the surrounding mud, Corin could make out the shape of something that wasn’t supposed to be there. He crouched down, digging his fingers into the dirt until he had the object in his head.

The Mandalorian was going to be so _angry._ But he would understand. He had to.

_“Corin!”_

He straighten up, quick enough to knock the air out of his lungs. Beyond the gentle splatter of rain Corin could hear the Mandalorian’s footsteps as he approached – and even quieter were the child’s playful leaps into shallow puddles, accompanied by joyful shrieks.

Corin turned on his head, hiding both hands behind his back. The smile he offered towards the child was full of tension.

“You ready to head out?” he asked; voice a little louder than he’d intended.

The Mandalorian tilted his head slight, looking Corin over. Surely he suspected something, but chose not to mention it.

“I have something for you.”

Corin tensed just slightly, eyes struggling to stay open and watch – pointlessly worried over the outcome as the Mandalorian held out his hand.

“My knife?” he looked between the unmarked blade, and the Mandalorian’s hidden face; searching for an explanation in shiny metal. Despite the awful memory of having used it, Corin was thrilled to see he hadn’t lost the precious gift.

“Found it yesterday,” the Mandalorian explained. He looked away, as though embarrassed. “I know you don’t want to shoot – I’d still prefer you were armed.”

Corin nodded, wanting with every fibre in his being to embrace the Mandalorian – to feel for just a few more seconds that everything was good and well; that he was safe and could finally take a chance to be happy.

Corin stayed planted where he was, the weight of an old bounty puck unspeakably heavy in his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so i cant really apologize enough for having written this - i am hoping after this our boys will finally let us get back on track with the plot but i really can't make any promises
> 
> as always a huge thank you to anyone who has read and commented on any of my fics looking back at your kind words has really helped me through a shitty time in my life
> 
> tumblr - @softdramahoe


	16. Back on Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of hatred for my own creative process. Corin tends to fight me on things a lot; this chapter was intended to be a lot longer, but this felt like a natural stopping off point. i'm trying to get more involved in the plot but it's difficult when all Corin wants to do is yearn
> 
> special thanks to a lovely friend for allowing me to use her name for my OC
> 
> REMINDER; i am vision impaired. typos exist.

Corin walked with a lump in his throat, numb to the downpour that surrounded him. Guilt weighed down heavy in his chest, as visceral as the bounty puck sitting inactive in his pocket.

He had been silent for the majority of their walk back to town, head bowed toward the muddy ground as they trekked forward. Mind filled with thoughts and fears he couldn’t voice if he’d tried.

The Mandalorian had looked upon his silence with concern several times – each time asking _“are you feeling okay? “do you need to rest?” “is something wrong?”_ and each time Corin could only muster up a half-hearted smile, assuring the Mandalorian of something he didn’t believe himself.

The child wandered off ahead. It seemed by now he was familiar with the path. He clung to his favourite fallen trees, stopped at the edges of large puddles to see if any small creatures dwelled beneath, and even went as far as to dig his tiny fingers into the mud, pulling out a luminescent worm the size of Corin’s forearm and devouring it whole.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

The Mandalorian came to a stop, tension clear in the way he stood. Corin had become used to the constant rain but was reminded of it’s presence seeing droplets bouncer heavy off the Mandalorian’s shoulders. He wanted to keep walking, legs like lead bars beneath him and stomach filled with a terrible dread that maybe he’d been caught. He prepared himself for the worse of it – having neglected to rationalize his ideas, even in his own mind.

“Ad’ika,” the word rang out just above the rustling wind. Just ahead, the child turned around, a smile splitting his face as he began to toddle back towards them. “That’s enough playing.”

Corin’s heart raced, as he released a breath he wasn’t actively holding. He watched the Mandalorian stoop down, lifting the child off the ground and into his waiting arms. Words were spoken that Corin couldn’t understand, but the resulting smile from the child put him at ease.

As they continued to walk, Corin fell behind just a little – the ache in his body was all but gone; replaced by the calm of a good sleep. He lay his hand flat against his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of his decision there beneath his pal,

The Mandalorian would just have to understand – this was for the best.

* * *

“I’ll be glad to see the end of this place.”

Corin could practically hear the scowl in his voice, as the Mandalorian looked towards the sky.

They’d reached the edges of the city not too long ago, and had immediately sought shelter beneath the awnings of local businesses. The Mandalorian leaned heavy against the nearest wall, drying off in the bare cover provided. Meanwhile, the child had taken advantage of somewhat empty streets on the outskirts, and was splashing his way through every puddle in sight.

“I don’t know,” Corin said softly, “I might miss the rain.”

“I’ll take our somewhere cold. Once we get off this planet.”

Corin smiled, but he could feel that the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I’d like that.”

He stepped forward out of the shelter and into the rain, determined to avoid the Mandalorian’s curious stare. The rain drummed down around Corin, soaking into his skin and weighing him down. The cold was no longer welcoming; only serving to remind him of things he didn’t want to remember just yet, and so Corin was glad when the child began to stumble in his direction.

“You’re soaked,” Corin said, voice lost to the elements. The child fell willingly into his arms, snuggling tight against his shoulder. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

When he turned back, Corin was surprised to see the Mandalorian watching him – so used to being ignored, or catching the tail ends of stolen glances. He fought against the ingrained urge to stand a little bit straighter, hold his head just a little higher, and force on a vibrant smile just for show. Instead Corin stayed slouched as he approached, shoulders sagged and head bowed, catching stray drops of water against the back of his neck.

 _“Corin,”_ his voice spoken firm above the surrounding noise.

“Let’s go home – we can figure out what to do from there.”

And if either of them chose to linger on Cori’s choice of words, neither of them mentioned it.

They continued their journey with barely an inch of space between them. Corin could only think as they walked, that he could reach out and make it seem accidental when their hands touched – and maybe this thought wasn’t the worst he had recently had, but with the child nestled against the crook of his neck half asleep, Corin already felt like he had fallen into someone else’s life.

These were moments that simply couldn’t belong to him.

As they ventured further into the city, the streets the walked carried more and more people. Corin tried hard not to shrink away when passers-by came too close, but as they neared the city centre the amount of people became almost suffocating. Even the child noticed the tension in his body, lifting his small head and placing a clammy hand flat against his face when Corin stopped dead in his tracks to avoid an oncoming crowd.

“You’re okay.”

The Mandalorian’s voice registered first against the backdrop of Corin’s eyelids – and exactly when he had squeezed his eyes shut, Corin wasn’t quite sure. What registered next was a hand flat against the small of his back; a firm protective weight, grounding him in place.

“Sorry –”  
“You don’t have to say it,” the Mandalorian was guiding him forward, and with no space left between them, passers-by gave the trio a wider berth. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

Corin found his peace in a deep breath that chilled his lungs. He felt security in the knowledge that with a single word, the Mandalorian would let him go – would step as far away as it took for Corin to feel safe again. He thought maybe it would be better if he knew Corin had never felt safer than he did right now.

“I didn’t expect it to be this busy.”

The words spoken like an apology; whispered in hushed tones, as though not meaning Corin to hear.

“I prefer being on the ship,” Corin confessed, leaving the last part to hang unspoken between them. _I prefer being with you._

The words felt too heavy where they clung to his throat. Not worth saying; all things considered.

Sensing this new calm, the child relaxed back into Corin’s arms and within moments he was breathing soft against his shoulder. The gentle coos that emanated from the child’s sleeping body helped Corin to navigate the otherwise overwhelming noise of busier streets. Multiple people fighting to be heard over the roar of weather surrounding them. heavy footsteps clapping into shallow puddles. The volume thunderous to Corin, who was used to private conversations where words were sparsely spoken. He listened to clips of conversation as they fluttered by; feeling with every inch of his body that despite everything, he was safe.

A feeling that might have lasted forever for someone more deserving but was cut short almost as soon as it was discovered. Above the commotion of the general crowd, a voice cut through; demanding attention of even the elements.

Panic seized Corin’s chest, a fresh fire igniting in his bloodstream at the striking resemblance. He’d heard that voice before, and surely if he were brave enough to look above the fading crowd he might see the lines of a familiar face, or the stark white of familiar guardship.

Corin couldn’t spare a thought before he was pulling away to the side, a hand wrapped too tight around the Mandalorian’s wrist while the other rested protectively against the child’s back. The street broke off to the left into a small alleyway, leading further into the heart of the city – away from their inn, and away from danger. Adrenaline in his body was caught between equal urges to run and hide. The Mandalorian was pulling back, trying to free his wrist and when Corin looked back he had his blaster drawn – the thought of having certain fears and memories put to rest was pleasant for a bare few seconds before Corin was shoving his way through the closest unmarked door.

“Corin –” his name a sound of confusion. There was an unmasked bite to his voice, the Mandalorian demanding answers, but not sure which questions best to ask.

“We’re okay,” Corin whispered to the child, still sleeping against his shoulder. He looked up to face himself in the helmets visor – barely able to see his reflection in the dark of this new building. He could see his own eyes blown wide and wild, the effects of panic clinging to his skin. The performer in him deflated; a shadow in the back of his mind whispered how low a price he would fetch for such an awful expression.

Corin straightened up. He lifted his head, steading himself with a ragged breath. It was too easy to fall into old habits. This is what he knew. This was safe.

“I don’t think they saw me – they might not even recognise me. Not like this.”

“Old friend of yours?” Corin nodded absently. “I thought they might have been after the kid.”

The Mandalorian didn’t put his blaster away. None of the protective tension left his body, still ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

“Did you get a good look – are you sure?”

“I’d recognise his voice anywhere. Any of them – I’d be able to –”

He stopped short, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to explain the memories set deep into his bones.

Truthfully Corin hadn’t heard a word that was spoken before the urge to run had kicked in. he was used to tuning out his masters friends – an object never had need to understand he contents of business meetings or even intimate last meals. But Corin knew he wasn’t wrong. Couldn’t be.

“That’s all I need to hear.”

The Mandalorian marched towards the door, blaster ready, and it took a second for Corin to jump into action.

“No!” he backed himself against the door, holding his free hand out to press against the Mandalorian’s armoured chest.

 _“Corin –”_ his name a warning he had heard many times before.

“They might not even know we’re here! I mean, they obviously aren’t tracking me – they would have found us by now!”

_“That isn’t the point.”_

And Corin wasn’t sure what the point could otherwise have been, but he held his ground.

“Look – we can only shoot our way off this planet _once,”_ he fixed the Mandalorian with a pointed stare, “So we should _wait_ , until we’ve got somewhere to go.”

A brief silence formed but didn’t settle. The Mandalorian stepped back and seemed to consider what was being said.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

Corin could almost picture a pout in place of the scowl he was likely wearing. It produced a genuine smile, a pleasant warmth overtaking him, removing most of the fear.

“I’m not asking you to like it – just save the shoot out for a good reason.”

Feeling it was safe to do so, Corin stepped away from the main door and ventured further into the building. The room they were in was dark an cavernous. A large window stood against the opposite wall, spewing grey light among towers of indistinguishable junk. Corin thought he could make out a stairway in the dim glow. He was grateful when the Mandalorian didn’t bother with further questions – grateful to feel the Mandalorian just behind him when the lights above their heads flickered to life – startling him.

Light flooded the room, hitting every reflective surface stacked among piles of junk. Boxes and wooden crates stood as high as the roof in some places, while loose gears and springs littered the floors in place of dust. Perhaps most striking were the piles of dismantled droids scattered in amongst the clutter, enough to form a small army, surely.

The Mandalorian’s hand was a bare touch of safety against Corin’s back before he was walking further into the room. He stepped carefully over spills of spare parts, venturing over toward the large counter now visible beneath the window.

“Corin,” his name spoke stiff and demanding. The Mandalorian obviously harboured discomfort in this place. Surely he would prefer the certainty of a public shootout – a battle he knew he’d win.

The wall ahead was plastered with maps and charts, all hand drawn in contrast to the tech scattered about. Many planets were crossed out, some even scrapped off entirely, but most remained intact.

 _“Hey!”_ an unfamiliar voice rang hollow throughout the room, followed by footsteps stampeding down the stairs.

Behind him, Corin heard the Mandalorian draw his weapon again; ever ready to fight their way out of trouble.

“I wasn’t expecting customers today – what are you doing here?”

The store clerk appeared in a flurry of brown curls, and oil stained clothes. She narrowed her eyes seeing the blaster pointed in her direction but didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

“Give it a rest,” she muttered, “Whatever you’ve been told it ain’t true so you can put that away and get on out of here if you don’t intend to buy anything.”

Corin glanced around at the surrounding mess, and back to the woman who now stood with a scowl marring her expression. Perhaps there was a planet-wide need for droid parts that likely wouldn’t work together. He wasn’t sure what other business this woman hoped to conduct out of the clutter.

He listened as the Mandalorian stepped forward- impatient and uneasy. He wrapped a hand around Corin’s arm.

“We’ll be on our way then,” he said.

“Suit yourself.” And the woman made to return upstairs, grumbling about time wasters and inconsiderate neighbours.

Corin allowed himself to be pulled along the first few steps, before a gear beneath his foot had a thought forming in his mind.

“Wait!” his voice came out louder than intended, even causing the child to stir restlessly in his arms. The store clerk stopped her ascent and turned back, expression flat and expectant. “You fix things, right? You’re a –” he looked around sceptically at the piles of damaged pieces. _“Mechanic?”_

The clerk folded her arms tight around her chest.

“That obvious, was it?”

Corin lit up, looking back at the Mandalorian with the very beginnings of a hopeful smile. The grip on his arm released and Corin took that as permission to continue.

“Well our ship is damaged. We’re stuck here unless we can get it fixed.”

The woman scoffed.

“you won’t have much luck with that. Anyone with enough parts took to space a few years back. We don’t get imports no more – everything you see here is all we’ve got to spare.”

“We have the parts,” the Mandalorian spoke up.

“Parts but no skill, huh? Well I can take a look at it, but it’ll cost ya.”

Corin’s heart sank. He should have known this would happen. He placed his hand inside his jacket pocket, the puck still there as a solid plan B. the maps scrawled across the walls spoke of a different story entirely.

“We can’t pay.”

The Mandalorian’s voice was firm, and earned a derisive snort from the clerk.

“Then why would I bother? If you’re just going to waste my time, you can get out.”

She pointed harshly toward the door, but Corin was quick to notice the spark in her eyes – the wait for a new offer. Something she didn’t want to ask for.

“We can get you out of here – that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The store clerk lowered her head, eyes level with the ground. A handful of emotions shifted across her face until finally;

“It would be nice to see the sun again.”

The Mandalorian came forward, a physical barrier between the woman and his child.

“So, do we have a deal?”

* * *

Later that night Corin sat at the edge of the window in the safety of their room. His skin was almost numb rom the cold, a familiar memory clinging to his skin.

They’d made plans with the store clerk, Ari, to retrieve the RazorCrest in the coming days. The damage hadn’t been terrible; no doubt the would be amongst the stars again soon.

Corin’s heart ached for a glimpse at the sky, unobstructed by a constant swell of grey. He had questions that needed answering, and could no longer seek guidance from the surrounding chill.

Each and every day he felt distanced from his past; both the overwhelming bad, as well as the persisting rays of _good_ he had clung to for years. Was this what it was supposed to feel like – _freedom?_ The terrifying pressure of making a wrong decision. The terrifying elation of finding happiness, despite all odds?

Corin leaned back. He climbed off the windowsill in one fluid motion and pulled the curtains closed. He could still feel the weight of his bounty puck in his picket. And in his chest Corin felt the weight of his near run in with the past.

Even if they got off this planet, they would always be in danger. As long as there was a price on his name, people would never stop chasing him.

Maybe that was something he should have thought about before.

With a heavy sigh, Corin collapsed onto the bed. His body still ached in some places and this was especially apparently when the child clambered onto his chest.

“Hey kid,” he reached out to drag a hand over large ears, heart warming at the genuine smile he received in response.

This family had it’s own problems. They didn’t need to be caught up in his as well yes, they would get off this rainy planet and they would keep running and running. Corin could only think of their future in terms of tragedy. The Mandalorian couldn’t protect them both. He shouldn’t have to.

“You’re going to be okay.”

Corin found a new clarity in the depths of the child’s eyes a new strength to do what had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So do let me know what you think; im not too sure yet how i feel about this chapter; my process usually involves a great deal of hate for the final product initially so that kind of sucks. Feel free to let me know what you think might happen next, i've always enjoyed the guesses!
> 
> also as always feel free to reach out to me on tumblr @softdramahoe


	17. Fever Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i am well aware that it has been over two months since my last entry into Unfair Fates.  
> I have not forgotten about this fic, nor will i forget about it until it has reached it's natural end.  
> I stopped putting life updates at the tops of my fics a little while ago, but when i look back at this time in my life, and at this fic in particular, at some point in the future, i want to remember what was going on in my head.  
> it's october now, and the past few months have been some of the hardest i've had to live through. life has had me mixed up in every possible way, and somehow even with all that i've been put through i'm still not over the hardest part. but along with all the nastiness i've also had the opperunity and the inspiration to create some truly amazing pieces of writing for friends i love so dearly. this i suppose, is one of the more positive things that has kept me away from this fic.  
> i wish i could say that it won't be as long as two months, before the next time i update this story. i can't make any promises. but to anyone who still cares, just know i did not abandon this piece. i will see it through to the end. the unwavering support of my readers has really gotten me through the hellscape that 2020 has become.
> 
> ADDITIONAL NOTE: Typos. they're there. let's not call attention to it <2

It was well into the night when Corin stirred into consciousness. His mind was caught in a sticky haze, struggling to find rational thought through an unfamiliar heat.

The first thing he properly registered were the bedsheets that stuck to his skin. The covers had been kicked down to his ankles, and yet Corin’s entire body burned just beneath the skin.

Behind him, the Mandalorian’s body was a comforting weight – and Corin’s heart just about skipped a beat when he shifted, finding an arm wrapped secure around his waist. Still, the warmth emanating from the body pressed flush against his, did nothing to help. Corin felts as though he couldn’t breath – and every attempt had his lungs struggling.

The pain in his body had dulled down to a tolerable ache in previous days. Still, when Corin managed to sit up in bed, every part of him screamed in protest. The room was spinning – the pounding in his head had Corin’s vision _pulsing_ – and he lost his balance almost as soon as his feet were flat against the ground.

For one startling second Corin thought he might pass out. And what a terrible inconvenience that would be; the Mandalorian had spent more than enough time caring for him. He just needed a bit of fresh air – Corin refused to be any more of a burden.

It was entirely strength of will that lead Corin to the door. The hallway was just as sweltering hot – the feeling settled into him like a parasite. He stayed close to the wall and held tight to the rail as he stumbled downstairs.

Each moment was a blur, and by the time Corin reached the landing he could hardly remember even getting out of bed. He pulled at the edges of his shirt where the fabric clung to his skin – the feeling reminiscent of his first days on the desert planet, and yet worse for the lack of relief offered as he popped open the top few buttons.

The lobby lit up as Corin stumbled in. his eyes drifted first toward the vacant helpsdesk, before straying toward the door. He stood in the archway for what was surely long enough to die from the heat. In his haze, he couldn’t hope to remember why he’d come down here.

Maybe to get some space?

He wandered over toward the window where a small, unwelcoming seating area was currently left empty. It didn’t feel quite right; they hadn’t fought and Corin couldn’t remember the last thing that was said between them. in the back of his mind he wondered if his plan was to run away, but gazing out the window into the rainy street he brushed the thought away. There was no where to run, and nothing here to run from. When he sat down, the cool leather of the armchair soothed his burning skin. Corin leaned into the feeling, and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

_“Hey – wake up!”_

Corin startled at the sound of a gravelly voice so close to his ear. His eyes snapped open, head pounding at the sudden burst of light.

The elderly innkeeper stood in front of him with her arms crossed, a sour expression on her face.

“What are you doing down here at this time of night?”

Corin blinked. He looked around. Where was he? For a blissful moment, confusion outweighed potential fear.

_Where was he?_

Corin sat up a little straighter. He turned his head frantically, taking in as many details as he could through building nausea.

 _“Hello?_ Are you going to answer me?” the old woman groused in an unfamiliar tongue before continuing, “Outsiders always cause so much trouble.”

Corin stopped. He listened to the sound of rain just beyond the window. He looked up at the elderly innkeeper, unable to manage an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry,” his voice came out weak. The cold moisture against the window looked good to sink right into, but Corin found his body too heavy to move.

The innkeeper clicked her tongue and reached out a hand in Corin’s direction. He didn’t flinch or try to shy away; instead allowing her to press against his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she scoffed. “I’ll get you some water but then you go back upstairs. It’s late and I won’t put up with this.”

She scurried away, once more rambling in her own tongue as she went. Coring barely had time to blink before she was back; forcing a cold glass into his hand.

“Drink up,” the old woman huffed. She settled herself into the plush armchair directly opposite, heaving a heavy sigh before relaxing into it. Her eyes never left Corin’s face.

Corin’s hand shook as he lifted the glass to his mouth. The cold water was like a revelation again his lips; a moment of clarity as it slid down his throat and soothed his body from within. One drop just wasn’t enough. He tipped his head back and swallowed greedily, draining the glass in mere seconds only for the heat to return even stronger than before. He struggled to set the glass down. His entire body shook as he tried to stand.

“Sit back down.”

The tone she used had Corin rushing to obey. He couldn’t force his thoughts to focus in, but something about this elderly woman frightened him. She was authoritative and harsh – and even through the haze in his mind, Corin read her voice as a precursor to pain.

“You stay right there while I get you a refill. I won’t have one of my patrons collapsing in the stairwell and sullying my good name.”

She continued to rant even as she disappeared behind the counter, still grumbling under her breath when she returned. She forced the glass back into Corin’s shaking hand with a scowl.

“Pace yourself – if you throw up on my good carpet, it’ll add to your bill.”

Corin nodded absently. He held the glass in his hand but didn’t drink; merely enjoying the chill against his palm. His entire body felt heavy, all the way up to his eyelids which refuse to stay open.

“And don’t fall asleep there either. A little lovers spat doesn’t mean you can sleep out here for the night,” the innkeeper barked. Then quieter she said, “Damn outsiders. You’re nothing but trouble.”

“Sorry,” Corin mumbled. He felt the words vibrate across his tongue; but his thoughts were nothing more than a ripple in water. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

The innkeeper scoffed.

“I wish!” she crowed, “Ain’t but one way off this planet and that’s with money. You either have it with you when you get here, or you’ll spend the rest of your life beneath these clouds.”

Corin shook his head, but couldn’t find the words to disagree.

He didn’t have to in the end; the innkeeper taking his silence and running with it.

“Oh you don’t think so, huh? Well you ask that little group of marauders who crash landed here a few years back. Terror of the town, they were! Constantly trying to swindle their way back into space. But even the deadliest of crooks simply couldn’t find their way out.”

Corin let his mind stray to the voice he’d heard only hours ago. An unwelcome flash from his past. He thought of Ari and the deal they’d made – and a much quieter part of his mind remembered the Mandalorian’s words; _“I’ll take you somewhere cold. Once we get off this planet.”_

He wouldn’t let this bitter old woman, or his own treacherous mind, cloud the one thing he knew for sure. Home. He was going to go home. One way or another he would get there. In the snow, surrounded by stars, and fragments of a stolen life.

The innkeeper made a disapproving noise, her face scrunched up in a bitter frown.

“I see there’s a fire in your heart,” she said, but her voice sounded far off as Corin’s conscious mind began to fade, “Watch your back, boy. This planet hasn’t ever favoured the light.”

* * *

When Corin woke again hours later, he was back in bed. Alone. He had a vague recollection of stumbling back upstairs – dizziness almost seizing him several times. Maybe he’d been making too much noise. Perhaps the Mandalorian had woken up and noticed he was gone. Corin had the faintest memory of being helped back to bed and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The dull light of morning was creeping in through parted curtains. Corin wanted to bury his head beneath the covers and hide until it was gone. His body was covered in a cold sweat, and shivers wracked through him with every breath.

Just like the heat that had claimed his body before, this chill seemed to come from within. Corin pulled the sheets tighter around himself. He took a deep breath and held it in his chest. Of all the things to kill him, Corin never thought his body would turn against him.

The squeak of door hinges hit his ears like a hammer. The sound pounded through his head even past the careful creak of footsteps.

Corin couldn’t help the pained sound that escaped his mouth. His head still ached when the room fell silent. Only the light footsteps of the child padding along the hardwood floor filled the empty space. Corin burrowed even further into the covers before throwing them off completely. He sat up in one quick movement, knowing his body would fight against anything less.

 _“Corin –”_ his name a sound of protest. The Mandalorian didn’t move from his place near the door, and when Corin found the strength to turn his head he found hesitance in the other’s stance.

“I’m okay,” he said, clutching the bedpost for balance. Corin had to bite his tongue to hold back a wave of nausea. “Just give me a moment to wake up.”

The child waddled over to Corin’s feet. He lifted his arms into the air and waved his hands to be lifted. Corin responded with a strained smile.

“Sorry kid.”

The child’s ears drooped, and he lowered his arms. Slowly, he turned away, padding across the room back to his father. The Mandalorian looked first at the disappointed face of the kid, before looking back up at Corin. Even through the helmet, his expression read concern.

“I want you to stay here,” he said.

Immediately Corin’s heart sank. He wanted to argue – he raised his head too quick and had to shut his eyes to keep the room from spinning. His eloquent plea not to be left behind, became a weak utterance.

 _“No._ it’s not that bad. I can handle it.”

A nasty little whisper in the back of Corin’s mind told him it was no use. The Mandalorian didn’t want to keep him around; he was always getting injured, always slowing them down. The Mandalorian would take his chance to leave this planet behind, and with it he would leave behind all the frivolous promises he had made.

And maybe it was better that way. Let Corin go back to how things had always been, before he forgot to behave.

Corin swallow the thought down and felt it get caught in his throat. There was a part of his mind that whispered rational things. He’d been useful in the past with the child, had saved their lives even. The Mandalorian wouldn’t get rid of him after that – and certainly not after they’d gotten so close –

The budding panic was pushed aside by the child’s tiny hands. His touch burned into Corin’s icy skin, and with it brought the pleasant thought of just how many days it had been since he lost his ability to breathe. He hadn’t felt the slight dip in the bed as the child was placed beside him, but he felt the weight of a small body crashing into him; small arms encircling him as much as was possible.

As he settled back into himself, the nausea and chill were still present in his body. The Mandalorian stood before him, body tense as though he wanted to reach out and touch, but wouldn’t let himself. Corin wanted it too, but didn’t know how to ask.

“I didn’t mean –” the Mandalorian turned his head, searching for the right words. It was clear each time this happened, that it wasn’t something he had dealt with in the past.

“I’m coming with you,” Corin said in response.

 _“You’re unwell,”_ the Mandalorian bit out.

“There will be plenty of time to rest when we’re off this planet. Besides, we’re just going to talk things over, right?”

The Mandalorian said nothing, but Corin could feel his gaze burning against his skin. He stared back, not allowing himself to back down – fought through the discomfort brought by disobedience.

There was no real reason for Corin to join the discussion. he would likely sit out like he had so many times in the past; allowing the conversation to fade off into the background unless he was specifically called to speak. Still, he feared the consequences of staying behind. He worried not for himself, but for the family he’d invaded.

_“Please?”_

It sounded insolent. A whiny little sound. No trace of the unspoken _please don’t make me wait here and wonder if you’ll make it back alive._

The Mandalorian sighed. His whole body moved with it. In a single breath of air he said more about his concern for Corin, than his voice ever could.

“Fine.”

* * *

Corin took extra care to bundle up warm for the day. Even wrapped in the heavy coat the Mandalorian had gifted him for this planet’s volatile weather, Corin could still feel the chill. They were set to meet Ari’s crew before making arrangements to leave this planet behind. She had been secretive to a fault; keeping her cards held close to her heart.

Still, the brief moments they’d spoken, Corin had seen a familiar spark in Ari’s eyes. A look he had seen reflected back at him through the Mandalorian’s helmet in recent days – a determination to get away and to _live._ No matter the cost.

_No matter the cost._

As they left the inn, Corin searched the service counter for the elderly clerk. He nodded politely when he met her eyes, feeling fond at the responding scowl.

Out on the streets Corin kept closer to the Mandalorian. He kept his head buried in the hood of his coat, and kept his arms close to his body trying to hold in heat. The harsh wind and splatters of rain felt warm against his skin, when compared to the cold that sat just beneath. All the while, the child skipped along; jumping in puddles and completely unaffected by the weather or it’s unfortunate side effects.

They must have made quite a sight together – attracting the watchful eyes of passing locals. Corin had become used to the curious stares of strangers and had hardly noticed it in the days prior. Now all he could think about were the pinpricks of unwanted attention on his skin. He tried to burrow further into his coat as he walked. When that didn’t work, Corin shifted closer to the Mandalorian. This action earned a cautious look – perhaps worried that Corin might collapse beneath the weight of his own incompetence – but nothing was said. The Mandalorian offered up his personal space and the protection that came with it, with an ease that left Corin envious.

Beneath the rain, the ringing in his ears, and the pounding in his head, Corin heard the Mandalorian speak.

“Not much further.”

The buildings were starting to look familiar. Corin had a special spot in his heart for places that had scared him half to death.

Just a cut away from the crowd, a small street lead to a familiarly non-descript building. The door was unlocked as it had been the day before, but this time the lights were on full blast.

The mess of scarp metal and droid parts that had previously littered the ground, were now gone. All that remained in the cavernous room were stacks and stacks of boxes, neatly piled along the walls. Even the extensive, hand drawn maps, were partly taken down – a petite young woman stood at the top of a tall ladder pulling pins from one corner of a large sheet.

“This junk won’t fit in the crest,” the Mandalorian said, casting a disdainful glance around the room.

Corin knew he was already unhappy with the idea of more strangers aboard his ship. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring – anything to convince them both that this wasn’t such a terrible idea. What came out instead was a dry sound that started as a rasp and built out into a cough. It burned through Corin’s throat and had him clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Corin’s graceless hacking echoed throughout the cavernous room, alerting the young woman to his presence. She practically jumped, and just about fell from her perch at the top of the ladder; a high-pitched shriek leaving her mouth. She just barely managed to gain her balance, the ladder swinging dangerously as she planted both hands against the wall.

“You boys just about scared me to death!” she exclaimed, casting a look down at Corin who had just managed to calm his burning throat. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a lady like that.”

 _“Sorry,”_ Corin rasped. He wondered idly if the warmth in his cheeks was from embarrassment, or the growing heat of the room.

The Mandalorian wasn’t so quick to be polite.

“Your leader should have been expecting us.”

The young woman looked confused for a moment before he eyes brightened.

“Right!” she tapped on her left ear where a comm piece was attached. Through stuffy ears, Corin could hardly hear what was being said, but once the woman was done, she turned back with a smile. “Ari is waiting upstairs in her studio – ready when you are,” she threw a playful wink over her shoulder and turned back to the pin that seemed to be just out of reach. “Go on up, but please don’t touch anything. I have a system – _Ginger will be angry._ ”

Corin swayed as he stepped forward. The movement had a rush of heat crashing through his body – the only thing that kept him balanced was the Mandalorian’s firm grip on his forearm.

“Stay here,” this time he left no room for argument. “Watch the kid. If anything goes wrong –” he paused, directing a wary glance up at the young woman, “Leave without me. I’ll find you.”

Corin nodded along, though there was no strength to his agreement. Ari had made no mention of her crew, their numbers, or background. That on its own was as good as an admission of ill intent.

The Mandalorian’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around Corin’s arm. A touch to reassure the both of them. he left no room for words before letting go. His footsteps echoed all the way up the grand staircase, until they disappeared behind the thud of a heavy door.

Corin found his way to the desk that sat just before the window; a perfect view of the ever-dreary sky. He sat down on the edge of the cluttered workspace and stared up at the remaining maps.

Some were star systems. Planets. A few sketches of constellations – impossibly familiar. The one being taken down was a planet with several moons. Each one crossed out with several thick lines.

“She made all this?”

Corin’s voice was too loud when it bounced around in his skull. He could hear it bounce around the room too; reflecting off the glass and the walls. The young woman jumped again and for a second she reminded Corin of someone he had once known. She clutched her hand to her heart, voice a flutter when she spoke –

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a lady while she’s’ working? I’m on a tight schedule here!”

Corin blinked dumbly. He opened his mouth to apologize but choked on the words. Fortunately the young woman didn’t seem to care, as she kept chattering away over his senseless rasping.

“We didn’t have none of this when we first crashed landed, y’know. I reckon it’s the only thing that’s kept Ari sane these few years – charting our course, planning ahead for when we finally get off this planet.”

Corin had more questions on his mind; how long they’d been here and why. He wanted to know more about this young woman and the rest of her associates. He wanted to step outside and cool off in the rain – escape the burning heat once more swirling beneath his skin.

A light thud in amongst the boxes preluded a delighted squeal. The child had found some form of personal treasure while digging around through the trash. Corin left his seat steady at the desks edge, to round the child up and keep him from further trouble.

At the same time, the young woman began her descent from the tall ladder. The more she spoke, the more it seemed she was happy to have someone listen to her.

“Y’know, Ginger reckons it ain’t real, this planet we’re looking for.” The sentence gave Corin pause; crouched in among the boxes with open arms. He glanced back to see the ladder shifting; only the top of it visible from his vantage point. “He says Ari’s memories are skewed – says that kind thing will happen to ya if you grew up a little funny. You remember too much of some things, and not enough of others.”

The child toddled into Corin’s arms, falling against his body in perfect sync with the way his stomach sank.

It all sounded so familiar. Like something he would tell himself on long desert nights, desperate to let go of all lingering hope. To let go of himself as a person, and everything that made him human.

Corin’s head swam as he rose to his feet. The room was filled with light footsteps against ladder rungs. A gentle hum, falling slightly out of tune. It was a series of constellations that were coming down next, each mapped out meticulously b hand. He wondered how difficult it had been to find the materials – particularly on a planet with no trade channels.

“Do you believe her?” Corin was surprised to hear the question fall from his mouth. Even more so by the tension he felt, waiting for the answer.

The young woman simply shrugged.

“Ari ain’t the only one who grew up a little odd,” she said. “Ginger’s been a grouch as long as I’ve known him, but neither of us care where we end up, as long as it gets us far from home.”

She bowed her head just slightly, hand pressed flat against the wall for balance as she shook away the remnants of unwanted thoughts.

“You ask too many questions.”

 _“Sorry_ – I shouldn’t have pried.”

 _“_ No, you shouldn’t have _.”_

Another sheet torn from the wall and rolled up by small hands. She made her way down the ladder once more and kept talking. Unprompted.

“Y’kow, the whole time we’ve been here there’s only one other man offered to take us off this planet. I reckon if you hadn’t come along, Ari might soon have given in to his crooked deal.”

Corin sat back at the edge of the desk. His body felt heavy; mind clouding further with easy stuffy breath.

“I didn’t think there was a way off this planet,” he said, knowing this wasn’t true.

The young woman turned a sly smile on him.

“Now don’t go believing everything you hear out on them streets. People round here got it out for Ari – some say she’s got a price on her head. Nothing official; just a nasty man who pops round every now and again. The kind who’s got more money than tact.”

Corin grimaced.

He thought back to the day before.

“I’m afraid I know the type.”

The young woman hummed, giving Corin a once over. Acknowledgement brightened her eyes for a second before she returned to her task.

At the top of the stairs, the heavy door creaked open. The Mandalorian stepped out, and Ari stood in the doorway, surveying the packed remains of her life.

“That was quick,” Corin said, as the Mandalorian approached.

“The plan is all theirs. We’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Corin had more to say, more questions to ask. Now more than ever, he felt afraid of what might lie ahead of him. Through the haze in his mind he thought of the bounty puck still hidden in among his things at the inn. His safety net in case things didn’t work out like he wanted them to. he wanted to know more about Ari, her past, this young woman who spoke so casually about awful things.

Tomorrow was no time at all.

From her perch at the top of the ladder, the young woman smiled down at Corin.

“Watch your back on this planet,” she said cheerfully, the tone of her voice had Corin tensing. “You never know who you can trust in a place like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note - the "young woman" is based on one of my cats. the man she talks about, "Ginger" is based on another of my cats. Yes, i am in such short supply of imagination that i have created characters using my dear fur babies. as always, i am taking criticism when offered.
> 
> Also feel free to hit me up for literally any reason over at @softdramahoe on tumblr. the blog may seem inactive, but i go online every day to like things i shouldn't like.


	18. A Spark of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for all of the people who have recently subscribed due to the fandom boom while the new season is being released. even while i'm not actively writing i am obsessive about my stats, so i have been living a real life nightmare watching the increase in hits and subscribers this fic has had while not being updated.
> 
> WARNING: as every i have endeavored to be as vague as possible with the content of this fic, but please note that there may be some dark or even upsetting themes playing in the background of this chapter. i know i personally have no concept of what is and isn't okay, so please be careful and take care.
> 
> TYPOS: i am vision impaired in one eye and i can not physically be held accountable for every single typo. this is not an apology.

Corin felt a fire burning beneath his skin. His head was swimming with it; each thought blurring into the next. Everything fading into a familiar darkness.

With uncertainty biting at the back of his mind, Corin struggled to keep his eyes open. Each time they closed he forgot something important. A spark of hope. The child sound asleep in his crib. The weight of the Mandalorian behind him, safe in bed.

As Corin’s eyes drifted shut too heavy to open, the dark against his eyelids burst into a painful light. The burning orange of stage lighting; bright bulbs bursting to life from every direction. The gentle patter of raindrops faded into the hush of a hungry crowd. Corin could feel their greedy eyes over his exposed skin – barely covered by his sellers, eager to pass him along as quick as possible.

There was something he was forgetting. Something lost in the heat in his core, and the rising bids for his life.

A bubble of rebellion. A craving deep down in his stomach for a touch of his choosing. Such things could only mean disaster, and Corin couldn’t fight them off even in the midst of a horrid dream. A showcase of unwelcome memories.

The prices called out meant nothing, each one faded into the next. He had been bought and sold too many times for such petty details to ever stick, though a certain voice caught his ear among all others. His heart felt both fond and sick all at once, meeting eyes with his last owner. He wore the smile of a man who had just purchased something pretty. His intentions were clear upon his face – Corin felt his entire body tense at the thought, but couldn’t do anything about it. He knew what would come next, and although every part of him knew it wasn’t real, his fever had him trapped.

Corin couldn’t force himself to wake up. Not as the scene shifted from a stifling stage, into the dank cellar’s he’d grown used to during multiple stays at the auction house. Not after what felt like hours of memories played in disjointed groups; pacing in damp cells as far as restraints would allow, or lying flat against brick floors measuring time by the sound of leaky pipes. He couldn’t escape the memories of being packed into a ship and couriered to his new home. The first taste of desert heat. The burn of sand against his bare feet. Renewed fear of a life less certain than the last.

His body knew what would come next. A touch of pain against his skin. A scar unseen, and yet irreversible. His body remembered, even as his mind fought back. he found himself in a familiar room, unable to close his eyes, unable to overwrite the thoughts with sweeter things. Surrounded by plush reds and golds. His skin remembered every bought touch, lying flat against an unfamiliar bed. Perfectly still. Like a doll.

And then the words that started his new life. A threat whispered against his skin; _“You’ll like it here,”_ as if he had a choice. _“You’ll enjoy being mine.”_

Corin’s eyes were wide open and unseeing. Fixated on a crack in the ceiling – a familiar chip in the otherwise immaculate brick wall, a mundane distraction from the feeling that crawled beneath his skin. It was unfamiliar. Scary. A sense of possession that had never belonged to him. As though his body were his own to decide for. And this was not the choice he would make.

The fever had him pinned down. Trapped against the memory of a soft bed, and dry hands against his exposed skin. His heart was racing – head pounding with the effort to block this out. The start of every protest died in the back of his throat. Unable to speak, unable to scream, Corin’s body struggled and fought back. the motion had his stomach swirling; bright colours fading in his mind to an unpleasant grey, and all at once back to black. He was frozen in place by a grounding grip against his shoulder.

_“Corin –”_

When his eyes snapped open all light was gone. The muddled memories of heavy breaths in his ear, faded off into a soft rainfall. Corin felt the chill against his skin, just as he felt the burning heat still beneath it.

His eyelids were still heavy, drooping closed with each struggled breath. Corin had shifted in his sleep, now perched at the edge of the bed, body bent in a seated position. Feet flat against the floor. Poised to run. He blinked back the remnants of memories lost to fear. His pounding heart settled into the feel of a welcome touch, and the Mandalorian’s voice as it filled the room.

“You’re okay,” he said slowly, surely, “It was just a bad dream.”

“No,” Corin felt the word bitter against his tongue. He lowered his gaze, stared down at his open palms. Before his escape he had never thought to doubt existence. Life was all that it was. Darkness. Uncertainty. The finality of knowing he would never belong to himself, and having to accept that among all other incredibly unfair truths. “No, a bad dream should end when you wake up. I don’t feel any better.”

“Corin –” his name fell like a sound of pure concern.

The Mandalorian let go of his shoulder, withdrawing completely, but it wasn’t what Corin wanted. He turned around, caught the Mandalorian’s wrist, and pulled his hand close to his chest. He held it there with both hands, pressing down over his frantically beating heart, where his breaths were too short and panic was just finding its footing.

“It wasn’t just a dream,” Corin repeated, quieter, almost to himself. he couldn’t find the words to explain – couldn’t imagine explaining more than he already had. Couldn’t bring himself to wonder what the Mandalorian would think of him if he knew. Still, Corin dared to bring himself closer.

The Mandalorian stayed cautiously still, allowing Corin to climb on top of him, settling heavy against his hips. This felt right. This was his choice. His body was shaking, unsteady still with the pounding in his head. He lay his hands flat against the Mandalorian’s chest to keep his balance, not sure what would come next but knowing that he wasn’t afraid. Knowing that despite everything he felt safe this way. Even as his breaths grew ragged and his eyes began to sting.

“You have to help me,” he said softly, “I don’t know how else to get rid of this feeling.”

The Mandalorian’s hands settled over Corin’s wrists. His thumbs brushed gently against Corin’s skin. A soothing touch. From behind the helmet his eyes stared deep into Corin. Trying to read past the panic.

“Corin, I don’t think this is a good idea. Not now. You’re still unwell.”

Corin huffed, a hiss of breath leaving between barely parted lips. He sat up, pulling his hands away.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me,” he exclaimed. He grabbed the Mandalorian’s hands, bringing them to rest against his burning skin, pushing up the fabric of his shirt. “You treat me like I’ll break. Even when I’m asking for it. Even when I know I’ll survive this.”

For the briefest moment, the Mandalorian’s grip tightened around Corin’s waist, holding him firmly in place. The touch was pure comfort to Corin’s frazzled mind, and it was over in the very next second.

_“Corin –”_

“No.”

The Mandalorian tried to withdraw again, but froze in place at Corin’s refusal.

“Don’t say anything,” Corin said, voice cracking on the very first word.

He leaned in to every single touch as the Mandalorian shifted. He kept his hands pressed against Corin’s body, not wanting to set him off or displace him. He moved slowly to sit up, leaning backing against the headboard with Corin still trembling in his lap.

“I want it to be my choice this time,” Corin whispered.

The Mandalorian hummed in response. With a hand pressed flat against the small of his back, he pulled Corin closer. Corin took all that he could, resting his head against the Mandalorian’s broad chest, losing himself in the sound of steady breaths, and a beating heart. He soaked in the softest touches; gentle circles rubbed into his back, a stray hand tangling into his hair.

Everything he wanted and didn’t deserve.

Corin raised his head. Ready to pull away. Ready to accept the consequences of what he’d done. All traces of anger were gone, completely unfounded and purged from his body. He opened his mouth to apologise, bottom lip trembling and eyes already brimming with guilty tears.

“Don’t say it.”

Corin closed his eyes. He leaned into the Mandalorian’s hand, shifting from his hair to cup his face.

“this isn’t something you should have to _survive,_ ” his voice was quiet, as his thumb swept over Corin’s cheek, catching an errant tear. “You’re still sick. Once your fever breaks, and once we’re back on the ship, we can talk this over. If you still feel the same way.”

* * *

When Corin next woke, it was from a pleasantly dreamless sleep. His body was heavy, and for a moment his mind was empty.

It seemed most of his days started in the same way – a blissful reprieve from reality. What stood out against all other recent mornings was the warm weight beneath him. The solid form of a human body.

Corin blinked himself into proper consciousness. The room took shape around him, starting with grey light filtered between parted curtains. His attention was stolen by a hand in his hair, fingers gently working through the knots. He lifted his head, meeting his own eyes in the Mandalorian’s visor.

“I thought I’d let you sleep a little longer.”

Corin was now acutely aware of everywhere they were touching. His hands bunched up against the Mandalorian’s chest, legs parted around his hip, every part of him pressed flush against the other man. He thought perhaps this was why he hadn’t been plagued by further nightmares. Even his fever seemed to be wearing down, though not completely gone

“How do you feel?”

Corin groaned in response. He didn’t fight against the warm hand pressed against his forehead.

Truly, he felt stupid. He felt like the worst kind of person – like he had taken something that didn’t belong to him. He had at least tried. But beneath the low simmering guilt, nothing lingered. No residual itch to be rid of his skin. No ill feeling twisting up in his stomach. Despite it all, Corin smiled. He leaned into the Mandalorian’s touch – gripped his wrist to hold his hand in place just a little longer, if only to feel like it was his choice.

“Better. Thank you.”

The moment was shattered by a muffled coo. The child stood hanging over the edge of his crib, one hand extended towards Corin.

Corin was quick to his feet, glad for an escape. He didn’t intend to bring up what was said the night before. Let his mistakes rest in the past where they belonged.

The child could easily have climbed out of his crib to cause havoc, but he let out a sound of pure delight when he was easily lifted. The quick burning cold of the previous days, had left Corin unable to give attention to the small child, and he made up for it now by cradling him tight to his chest.

“Good morning kid,” he murmured. His heart melted when the child nuzzled into him, small arms stretching to return the hug.

Corin did his best to ignore the rest of the room. The bed shifted as the Mandalorian got up. Beyond that was the shuffle of redressing, of armour being put on, and what little belongings the three had, being gathered together.

“We’ll have to leave soon,” he said idly. Corin wondered how much time had been wasted just so he could rest. “We’ll meet Ari and her crew at the edge of the city. we won’t be coming back.”

Corin nodded in response.

He’d grown fond of this small, unfriendly inn. But he knew they couldn’t stay forever – it was pure luck they hadn’t been found yet. Not by poachers after the child’s bounty, and not by those after Corin’s life either. Sooner or later their luck would run out. The still active puck in amongst Corin’s things, was a testament to that unfair fact.

“You hear that?” Corin continued to address the child, keeping his back turned. “We’re getting out of here. Isn’t that exciting?”

Once they were finally off this planet, Corin could put his plan in motion.

* * *

The rainfall was calmer on this day than Corin had ever seen it. Bundled up in a thick jacket, with pinpricks of fevered heat still pestering him, he thought he’d be happy if he never saw another cloudy sky.

Ari was waiting, as planned, on the outskirts of the city. her crew was small – Corin easily recognised the young woman from yesterday; the shortest among three crew members. They carried little with them; no sign of the clutter from the old storehouse.

Ari nodded in greeting. She looked wearily overhead, as though trying to see something past the thin sheets of rain and into the city.

“This is coming at the perfect time,” she said, head bowed and voice coming with a bitter bite, “I don’t think Trezair would accept another rejection, after so long trying to win my affections.”

The young woman from before shook her head animatedly – practically bouncing with the movement.

“I don’t reckon so!” she exclaimed, “He brought armed soldiers with him this time, did ya see?”

A bored sigh came from the only man among them. he stood much further back, where Corin could make out a set of three speeder bikes.

“You sure we have to take her with us?” the man asked. His voice was deep and slow. Barely audible over the low hum of rain.

“Ginger! Quit bein’ so mean!” the young woman’s high pitch was a startling contrast.

“You’ll have to excuse my crew,” Ari said, “Grey and Ginger go a long way back. they were like this when I found them.”

Grey puffed out her cheeks indignantly, though her attitude changed as soon as she spotted the child. She rushed over, heedless of the implied line between her crew and their tentative allies.

 _“Oh,_ you brought the baby with you!” she exclaimed, reaching out to him. The child squirmed in Corin’s arms, struggling to reach back.

“I think he likes you,” Corin said softly. He didn’t relax his hold, worried if he let go that the child might be taken.

Grey was completely enamoured by the child, pulling faces and mimicking every soft coo he made, until she had him laughing. She looked up at Corin with wide eyes and said, “Where did you find him, I want one!”

Further back, Ginger scoffed.

“I’ll find you a baby once you stop acting like one. You’re holding up the team.”

Ginger opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off.

“You two can argue along the way,” Ari snapped. Again, her eyes drifted over toward the city, as though expecting someone. Her obvious unease had a spike of anxiety bubbling Corin’s stomach, and he shifted the child in his arms. “I’d like to be rid of this city as soon as possible. If you two can’t agree, I’ll happily leave you both behind.”

Grey jumped back, cheeks warming with embarrassment. Ginger simply rolled his eyes.

Beyond the three of them, was another woman. Tall and beautiful. She hadn’t said a word the entire time, or shown any interest in what was happening. She’d been going through the slow process of checking each bike, securing what little was tied on to the sides. Once everything was in order she came forward, tugging at Ari’s sleeve. Corin could see her lips move but with the surrounding wind he couldn’t pick up her voice. Ari nodded as she was spoken to, before addressing everyone out loud.

“Calico has ensured all preparations were correctly made,” with this, she shot a weary glance at Grey. “It’s time to go. Will the three of you be able to ride together?”

Corin nodded when he caught the other turning to look at him.

“It’s fine,” the Mandalorian said, “Although our ship landed only a few hours walk from here.”

”Calico would prefer not to get her clothes dirty,” Ari replied. She gestured to the nearest bike. “Lead the way.”

Corin hesitated a moment. He worried for the child, knowing it would be tough to keep hold of him throughout their journey. It was already hard enough to keep him seated in the RazorCrest. Even when under attack.

The Mandalorian looked back when he realised he wasn’t being followed. He tilted his head by way of question, perhaps not wanting to say too much in front of Ari.

“Oh! Here!” Again, Grey rushed forward, scooping something off of her own speeder along the way. She held it out to Corin, a cosy looking bag. “I made this yesterday. So the baby doesn’t go flyin’!”

“Assuming he doesn’t just climb out,” the Mandalorian said, sounding both fond and annoyed. “Thank you.”

The child gave a curious coo, but didn’t fight being placed into the bag. The flap fell closed over his head, but he was quick to push above it; a bright smile on his face. Corin tested the weight of the bag before throwing it over his shoulder. The child laughed, and looked around curiously from his new vantage point.

“Well that solves that problem,” Corin said.

He had made an easy recovery from his previous injuries, but with the child balanced precariously at his side he still needed helped lifting himself up onto the speeder. The Mandalorian guided him to sit at the very front and although Corin knew it would be impossible to avoid touching, he didn’t quite realise they would be _this_ close. with the previous night still fresh in the air, he didn’t know quite how to feel when the Mandalorian settled in behind him, arms reaching around him to form a protective cage.

“The path through the forest is dangerous,” Ari said, climbing gracefully onto the back of Calico’s bike. She shot a pointed look at Ginger, when she said, _“Don’t_ go too fast.”

Ginger scoffed, and made a show of rolling his eyes. He and Grey were the last to be ready – Grey having to be pulled along to their waiting speeder. She tugged insistently against Ginger, fighting to stay in place as she looked out toward the city.

“Wait, did you hear that?” she asked, right before a blaster shot zipped dangerously close to her face.

Ginger was quick to react, shoving Grey to the ground and drawing a weapon of his own. He growled out in another tongue, what Corin recognised as a command to stay down, where she would be safe.

Calico was just a quick, gracefully dismounting while Ari leaned back and sighed.

“I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up about leaving,” she said, “Not while fate is still so cruel.”

“What’s going on?” the Mandalorian asked. He dismounted just as quick, but kept Corin in place with a stern look.

“Just some unfinished business,” Ari said.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.”

Ari shrugged.

“You better either take off now or draw your weapon, we won’t be getting out of this without a fight.”

As if on cue another shot was fired. Again a narrow miss. Corin recognised it as a warning, the situation feeling painfully familiar.

Grey struggled on the ground, held by the sole of Ginger’s boot while he peered past the fog into the city.

“Hey boss, your fiancé is here.”

Ari rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for that,” she said. She too dismounted with a huff, sweeping her hands down to flatter her cloak. A casual toss of her head had her hair flying elegantly over her shoulder.

Corin looked around and followed suit. He stood steady on his feet, shifting the bag around his shoulder to keep the child hidden. In the distance where the city buildings were mere silhouettes, he could make out the shapes of a familiar scene. Several armed soldiers with raised weapons, and at the head a man Corin recognised even from such a distance.

Yet more unwelcome memories flooded Corin’s mind. Pleasant dinners spent at his owner’s feet, the wandering eyes of guests never too far. This man had spent many nights at their table. His, was the voice Corin had heard just two days ago above the rabble of the crowd. The realisation struck so suddenly it stole all the air from his lungs. A renewed panic had his body tensed to run.

With the forest behind him, the thought felt days old. He wouldn’t get very far.

“Corin –” his name was spoken quiet, the rest not needing to be said. An unspoken plea to take the child and _run,_ should worst come to worst.

“Trezair, what a surprise,” Ari drawled. She waved her hand in Ginger’s direction, gesturing for him to lower his weapon. “Is this any way to treat a prospective bride?”

“You should know better than to try fleeing this planet. A person of our background ought to have more respect.”

Trezair spoke with a pleasant smile – one Corin had seen many times before. He looked first at Ari, eyes greedy and laced with possession, before travelling across her gathered companions. The entire time his armed henchmen stood, blasters raised, cautiously monitoring the situation. There were two for every one of them. it seemed Bad luck had finally returned to stake it’s claim over Corin’s life.

“Yeah well, mother hardly had a chance to teach me all that,” Ari shrugged. “It’s a pity, I supposed if she hadn’t been murdered, I might’ve made a nice trophy wife. Oh well.”

Trezair continued to smile.

“You are still young enough to learn.”

“And if I say no? Ari asked. She stepped back, folding her hands demurely behind her back. she made a gesture to Ginger, directing him to let Grey up. They moved slowly, inching back towards their speeder and whispering together in another tongue. Grey took the blaster out of Ginger’s hands, ready to fight and flee at once.

Trezair made a contemplative sound, while he pretended to think about it. The smile on his face was wearing thin with impatience – every aspect of the situation set alarm bells off in Corin’s head. He was just as likely to have his men open fire at this point, if only to be done with Ari’s insolence. Corin had seen it happen before. No prize was worth this trouble.

But then, his eyes lit up, and Corin felt as though he’d been pulled out of his own skin.

“Perhaps you’d consider a trade,” Trezair said, expression now brimming with flee. He stepped closer, gestured for his men to lower their weapons. “I thought my eyes were playing ticks, but it’s really _you._ ”

Corin stepped back, heart pounding. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to stop existing. He wanted to leave but no matter how his mind screamed, alight with panic, his body wouldn’t move.

“When I heard the news I never thought I would see you out here, and unspoken for,” Trezair looked from Corin, to the Mandalorian who now stood protectively between them. “You’ve no need to keep running. It’s time to come home, _Corin.”_

His name was spoken thick with adoration – the sound had his stomach churning, the ill feeling slamming through him like a brick wall, immobilising him right down to his last choked breath.

Ari’s head whipped around to stare at Corin. She wore a bewildered expression unfitting of her usually bored features.

At the same time it seemed the Mandalorian had had enough of waiting around. He fired several quick shots – aided immediately by Calico’s efficient shooting. Although shots were fired in response, enough confusion was created for Corin to be shoved back toward the speeder, a blaster forced into his hand.

“It’s time to prove you know how to shoot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i'll be perfeclty honest, i was mad anxious about releasing this chapter but i did it any way because it needed to be done. this was the direction the story naturally went in and i'm not going to change that. i am however going to express exactly how difficult this was for me, even if i can't exactly express why.
> 
> If you liked this chapter make sure to let me know either in the comments or in the anons of my tumblr @softdramahoe because listen i am trying my absolute best but like most writers i do be having doubts.
> 
> aside from all of that, stay safe everyone, and i will see you in the next update **sassy emoji**
> 
> PS; feel free to roast my original characters. they are based on my cats.

**Author's Note:**

> prepare to validate me.
> 
> i have more of this written up and ready to post, but i want to see what the reaction for this is before i work too hard on it...


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